“She’ll do,” said Ben, cheerily; “we can send her out to shoot the deer in the mountains, Bob. Perhaps she will have better luck than we do.”
“Perhaps,” laughed Robert, as he turned the horses homeward. “Be sure and ask Holles, Hilda, what is the greatest number of deer he has ever shot!”
Hilda promised not to forget, and hurried into the house to make her preparations for the guests.
“It will rain to-night,” Ben said; “it can’t help itself any longer. Just look yonder.”
“Yes, I believe you are right at last,” answered Robert, unhitching the horses from the cultivator.
CHAPTER IV
THE STORM
THE seven callers came as threatened, and Hilda began to think that perhaps there was some kind of companionship possible in the wilds of Southern California. She was delighted with these young English fellows, and sat in the midst of them, laughing at their fun, listening to their stories, and answering their eager questions about the dear old country for which they all longed.
“How does the Strand look?” asked Graham.
“Does Tottenham Court Road seem the same as ever?” asked Lauderdale.
“Has Park Lane changed at all?” asked Holles, putting on airs of great superiority.