"Pooh! I'd rather have one of those tinkly little tunes where you can hear the banjos and the tambourines," averred Tilly.
"Indeed! At this rate I don't see how I'm going to sing at all," laughed Genevieve, "with so many conflicting wishes. Anything different anybody wants?"
"Yes," declared Mr. Hartley, promptly. "I want them all."
"Of course!" cried half a dozen voices.
"All right!" rejoined Genevieve, laughingly, springing to her feet.
And so while everybody watched the stars in the far-reaching sky, Genevieve, in the living room, played and sang till the back gallery and the long covered way at the rear of the house were full of the moving shadows of soft-stepping Mexican servants and cowboys. And everywhere there was the hush of perfect content while from the living room there floated out the clear, sweet tones, the weird, dreamy melodies, and the tinkle of the tambourines.
One by one, an hour later, the lighted windows in the long, low ranch house became dark. The last to change was the one behind which sat Cordelia Wilson in the room she shared with Tilly.
"Cordelia, why don't you put out that light and go to bed?" demanded Tilly at last, drowsily. "Morning will never come at this rate!"
"Yes, Tilly, I'm going to bed in just a minute," promised Cordelia, as carefully she wrote in the space opposite Mrs. Miller's name on her list of "things to do":
"Cowboys are good, kind gentlemen; but they are noisy, and some rough-looking."