"And Elizabeth, there's no place like Switzerland in summer. Let's pack up and go!"
"Let us!" she answered, very softly, with only a little exultant tremor on the words.
She never guessed all that she had won that day; she only knew that life stretched on before her, a long, sunny pathway, where she and her father might walk together in the daily and hourly good-comradeship that she loved.
IV.
AT THE KEITH RANCH.
The dance was in full swing—a vehement, rhythmic, dead-in-earnest ranch dance. Eight couples on the floor tramped or tiptoed, as the case might be, but always in perfect time with the two unmelodious fiddles. The tune, if tune it might be called, went over and over and over again, with the monotonous persistency of a sawmill, dominating the rhythmic tread of the dancers, but not subduing the fancy of the caller-out.