Dorothy stared, as though wondering if Jane had suddenly taken leave of her senses.
"Wake up, Dorothy!" Jane laid an affectionate hand on Dorothy's shoulder. "He's yours. Dad sent him to you. He's come all the way from Capitan to see you. Aren't you going to say 'How de do' to him?"
"Jane—I——"
Dorothy turned and hid her head against Jane's shoulder.
"This is a nice way to welcome poor Midnight," laughed Jane, as her arm went round Dorothy. Her own voice was not quite steady.
"I—I—it's too much," quavered Dorothy, raising her head. "I can't believe that beauty is for me. It's too wonderful to be true. I must be dreaming."
"But it is true. If you don't believe me, read this."
Jane drew a square, white envelope from the pocket of her riding coat and offered it to Dorothy.
"It's for you, from Dad," she explained. "I've been keeping it until Midnight came. This is the outcome of a plot. A real plot between Dad and me."
Dorothy took the letter, her eyes still misty.