“Honey!” the latter exclaimed.
“Uncle Cliff! When did you come?”
“Got here about an hour ago, Honey.” He held out his arms, and she slipped lightly into them, to be held very closely for a moment before he let her go.
“You’ve been here a whole hour—and I never knew!” Blue Bonnet said.
“Oh, well, I calculated on staying over night, Eliza—”
Instantly her hand was over his mouth. “You’re not to call me that! I’m Blue Bonnet.”
Uncle Cliff laughed. “I reckon you are Blue Bonnet all right.”
They went indoors together; Blue Bonnet clinging to him as if she could never let him go again. Half-way down the hall, Mr. Ashe stopped abruptly, holding her off at arm’s length. “You’ve grown, Honey,—and,” he could keep the words back no longer, “Honey, you came up the drive just now like your father’s own girl. See here, Blue Bonnet, your grandmother’s been telling me something that you should have told me long ago; she’s been telling me the sequel of the story, too. Never you say again you’re not an Ashe ‘clear through.’ My, but Uncle Joe’s going to be proud to hear of it.”
“I wish he had come, too.”
“He sent you a bit of the ranch—in damp cotton.”