"Oh, but I did, Genevieve! You don't know how beautiful it all was to me—only of course I felt sorry to be such a failure in what folks wanted me to do. You see, Reddy was the only one I found, and I'm very much worried for fear he won't be satisfactory."
Genevieve did laugh this time.
"Well, if he isn't, I don't see how that can be your fault," she retorted. "Come, now let's forget all this, and just talk Texas instead."
"Aunt Mary says I do do that—all the time," rejoined Cordelia, with a wistful smile. "Aunt Sophronia is there, too, and she says I do. Still, she likes to hear it, I verily believe, else she wouldn't ask me so many questions," concluded Cordelia, lifting her chin a little.
"I'd like to take Miss Jane there sometime," observed Genevieve, with a gravity that was a little unnatural.
"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Cordelia—then she stopped short with a hot blush. "I—I beg your pardon, I'm sure, Genevieve," she went on stammeringly. "I ought not to have spoken that way, of course. I was only thinking of Miss Jane and—and the cowboys that day they welcomed us."
"Yes, I know," rejoined Genevieve, her lips puckered into a curious little smile.
"I don't believe I'm doing any more talking, anyway, than Tilly is," remarked Cordelia, after a moment's silence. "Of course, Tilly, with her poor arm, would make a lot of questions, anyway; but she is talking a great deal."
"I suppose she is," chuckled Genevieve, "and we all know what she'll say."
"But she says such absurd things, Genevieve. Why, Charlie Brown—you know he calls us the 'Happy Texagons' now—well, he told me that Tilly'd been bragging so terribly about Texas, and all the fine things there were there, that he asked her this morning real soberly—you know how Charlie Brown can ask questions, sometimes—"