“No, he just said there were twelve of them,” put in Alice.
“Girls,” interrupted Daisy, who had not been listening to the conversation, “how often do you think there are mails here?”
“Not very often, I’m afraid,” said Marjorie, wondering at the same time whether she might hope to hear from John Hadley soon. “But don’t you worry, Daisy, if there were any news you’d get it by wire.”
“I suppose that’s true,” said the girl, thoughtfully. “And that reminds me, I wanted to ask you girls not to say anything about my sister out here. Of course I knew you wouldn’t intentionally, but something might slip out—like it did about that fake lieutenant—if you weren’t on your guard.”
The girls laughed at the reference to the joke the boy had tried to play upon them, and assured Daisy that they would be very careful of her confidence.
It was half-past five when they finally strolled over to the porch of the big cabin. A large, roomy veranda, with plenty of benches and chairs, it looked most inviting and homelike. The girls approached it with a sensation of pleasure that almost seemed like adventure.
All the scouts had put on simple summer dresses, and yet as they saw the only other two girls of the ranch in riding breeches and flannel shirts, they experienced that uncomfortable feeling which comes to a woman when she realizes that she is not appropriately clothed. As they approached the porch Bob Hilton came out of the cabin to introduce them to the others. He did it clumsily, but so informally that they felt immediately at ease.
“That bunch in the corner playing fan-tan is the Grimes Academy bunch,” he said, indicating five boys ranging from thirteen to sixteen years of age. “And that’s Pop Welsh, their keeper!”
The boys looked up and grinned, and the girls smiled back in return.
“Irene and Maud Judson,” continued Bob, nodding in the direction of the two young ladies.