“I just HATE Montana!” she burst out, vehemently, blinking back some tears. “I don't care if Cecil did just come day before yesterday—I shall pack up and go back home. She can stay if she wants to, but I won't live here another day. I hate Chip Bennett, too, and I'll tell him so if I ever get home. I don't see what J. G.'s thinking of, to live in such a God-forgotten hole, where there's nothing but miles upon miles of cactuses—” The downfall of Eastern up-bringing! To deliberately say “cactuses”—but the provocation was great, I admit. If any man doubts, let him tread thin-shod upon a healthy little “pincushion” and be convinced. I think he will confess that “cactuses” is an exceedingly conservative epithet, and all too mild for the occasion.
Half an hour later, Chip, leading Concho by the bridle rein, rode over the brow of a hill and came suddenly upon the Little Doctor, sitting disconsolately upon a rock. She had one shoe off, and was striving petulantly to extract a cactus thorn from the leather with a hat pin. Chip rode close and stopped, regarding her with satisfaction from the saddle. It was the first time he had succeeded in finding the Little Doctor alone since the arrival of Dr. Cecil Granthum—God bless her!
“Hello! What you trying to do?”
No answer. The Little Doctor refused even to lift her lashes, which were wet and clung together in little groups of two or three. Chip also observed that there were suggestive streaks upon her cheeks—and not a sign of a dimple anywhere. He lifted one leg over the horn of the saddle to ease his ankle, which still pained him a little after a ride, and watched her a moment.
“What's the matter, Doctor? Step on a cactus?”
“Oh, no,” snapped the Doctor in a tone to take one's head off, “I didn't step on a cactus—I just walked all over acres and acres of them!”
There was a suspicious gurgle from somewhere. The Little Doctor looked up.
“Don't hesitate to laugh, Mr. Bennett, if you happen to feel that way!”
Mr. Bennett evidently felt that way. He rocked in the saddle, and shouted with laughter. The Little Doctor stood this for as much as a minute.
“Oh, no doubt it's very funny to set me afoot away off from everywhere—” Her voice quivered and broke from self-pity; her head bent lower over her shoe.