“And it brought me—everything.”
“Blue Bonnet, I’m mighty glad of that; all the same, I’ll never forget.” At the door, he stopped.
“Woodford shall many a day tell of the plucky way
In which our Blue Bonnet rode over the border,”
he sang softly.
It was Grandmother who found “the way.”
Blue Bonnet told her of the new club that evening during the twilight talk which had become a regular institution. “I might write to Uncle Cliff—he’d send me all the money I wanted; that wouldn’t be borrowing, nor running ahead. I suppose, though, Aunt Lucinda wouldn’t like that?”
“Or you might come to me,” Mrs. Clyde suggested.
“But I thought—”