“Yes,” she said, “I have ties in the city. I could not remain here, I am afraid, much as I should like to. I—I think I had better sell.”
“Rubbish!” exclaimed the colonel. “You’ll not sell. You are going to stay here with us until you are thoroughly rested, and then you won’t want to sell.”
“I wish that I might,” she said; “but——”
“But nothing!” interrupted the colonel. “You are not well, and I shan’t permit you to leave until those cheeks are the color of Eva’s.”
He spoke to her as he might have spoken to one of his children. She had never known a father, and it was the first time that any man had talked to her in just that way. It brought the tears to her eyes—tears of happiness, for every woman wants to feel that she belongs to some man—a father, a brother, or a husband—who loves her well enough to order her about for her own good.
“I shall have to think it over,” she said. “It means so much to me to have you all want me to stay! Please don’t think that I don’t want to; but—but—there are so many things to consider, and I want to stay so very, very much!”
“All right,” said the colonel. “It’s decided—you stay. Now run off to bed, for you’re going to ride with us in the morning, and that means that you’ll have to be up at half past five.”
“But I can’t ride,” she said. “I don’t know how, and I have nothing to wear.”
“Eva’ll fit you out, and as for not knowing how to ride, you can’t learn any younger. Why, I’ve taught half the children in the foothills to ride a horse, and a lot of the grown-ups. What I can’t teach you Cus and Eva can. You’re going to start in to-morrow, my little girl, and learn how to live. Nobody who has simply survived the counterfeit life of the city knows anything about living. You wait—we’ll show you!”
She smiled up into his face.