"Yes, Aunt Lucinda, I won't forget. Yes, yes, Uncle Cliff, and you'll write often, won't you? I'll be so lonesome just at first. Good-by—good-by!" There was a droop to the last note of the second good-by—a quaver that went straight to Uncle Cliff's heart and made him turn round and take Blue Bonnet once more in his arms.
"Why, Honey!" he said, as the brown head went down on his breast, and the quick sobs shook the slender form. "Now, now! What are you crying for? Do you want to go back to Grandmother's? You only have to say so, you know."
The head shook violently on the broad shoulder that sheltered it, but no answer came.
"Do you want to go home with me—back to the ranch?"
Again the head shook—no!
Mr. Ashe unlocked the arms that had gone about his neck so lovingly, and lifting the wet face looked into it tenderly.
"Don't, Honey," he said, and there was a catch in his own voice. "Don't, please. Uncle Cliff can't bear to have you cry. He'll hear those sobs every step of the way back to Texas—and long after."
Blue Bonnet straightened up and made a brave effort to smile through her tears.
"Oh, no, you mustn't! I didn't mean to give way like that. I thought I was going to be all right—and then—all at once—it just had to come. It's homesickness. I've been fighting it for a month!"
"Remember you are responsible for Carita, too."