"All right, Sun! We'll drive right in and wait for you."
They did not have to wait, however. Sundown, leaving his team at the fence, took a short cut to the house. He entered the back door and called to Anita.
"Neeter," he said, as she hastened to answer him, "they's some friends of mine just drivin' up. If you could kind of make a quick change and put on that white dress with the leetle roses sprinkled on it—quick; and is—is he sleepin'?"
"Si! He is having the good sleep."
"Fine! I'll hold 'em off till you get fixed up. It's me ole pal, Billy Corliss,—and he's brung along a wife. We got to make a good front, seein' it's kind of unexpected. Wrastle into that purty dress and don't wake him up."
"Si! I go queek."
"Why, this is fine!" said Corliss, entering, hat in hand, and gazing about the room. "It's as snug and picturesque as a lodge."
"Beautiful!" exclaimed the enthusiastic Margery, gazing at the Navajo rugs, the clean, white-washed walls against which the red ollas, filled with wild flowers, made a pretty picture, and the great grizzly-bear rug thrown across a home-made couch. "It's actually romantic!"
"Me long suit, lady. We ain't got much, but what we got goes with this kind of country."
Margery smiled. "Oh, Will, I'd like a home like this. Just simple and clean—and comfortable. It's a real home."