"I can see three folks on the platform," said Collie. "One is the agent; see his cap shine? Then there's a man and a woman."
"If it's Anne, she'll never forgive me. She's so—formal about things. It can't be the Marshalls, though."
"We can ride," suggested Collie. And the two ponies leaped forward. A little trail of dust followed them across the valley.
At the station Louise found her guests, young Dr. Marshall and his wife; also the telegram announcing the day they would arrive.
"I'm sorry," began Louise; but the Marshalls silenced her with hearty "Oh, pshaws!" and "No matters!" with an incidental hug from Anne.
"Why, you have changed so, Anne!" exclaimed Louise. "What have you been doing? You used to be so terribly formal, and now you're actually hugging me in public!"
"The 'public' has just departed, Miss Lacharme, with your pony, I believe. He rides well—the tall dark chap that came with you."
"Oh, Collie. He's gone for the buckboard, of course. Stupid of me not to drive down. We really didn't expect you until to-morrow, but you'll forgive us all, won't you? You can see now how telegrams are handled at these stations."
Anne Marshall, a brown-eyed, rather stately and pleasingly slender girl, smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. I may, if you will promise to introduce me to that fascinating young cowboy that rode away with your horse. I used to dream of such men."
Young Dr. Marshall coughed. The girls laughed.