“Maybe they do,” Blue Bonnet retorted, “but Sarah and I don’t—just now.”
“Come on,” Kitty said.
At the gate, Blue Bonnet turned to Sarah. “I—I’ll be down this evening, if I can.”
“I’ll come too,” Kitty said.
“We’re going to study,” Sarah warned her.
“It’s a class in first aid to the injured,” Blue Bonnet laughed.
“See here, Elizabeth Ashe,” Kitty exclaimed, “you’ve been sailing pretty near to the wind lately. I never knew before that Miss Rankin was such a straight descendant of Job’s.”
A week later, in spite of Sarah’s efforts and Kitty’s warnings, the climax came.
It was a dull, bleak day, the last day of October, with a brisk wind sending the falling leaves scurrying in all directions. Blue Bonnet had had a letter from her uncle that morning; a long letter, that had brought the life on the ranch very near. More than ever “the call of the wild” was in her blood that day. She was late for school in the morning; late again, in the afternoon; and the very slight attention she brought to bear upon her work during the earlier part of the day had, by afternoon, diminished almost to the vanishing point.