"Do they make dishes cheap, Dicky?" asked Felicia, crowding close to her brother's knee. "Would they make me some doll dishes cheap, do you think?"
Dick lifted the little girl to his knee and kissed her. "Why cheap, little old chick-a-biddy?"
"Because I heard you tell Charley funds were getting awful low now you'd sold the last of the turquoise. But this doll will starve, Dicky, if she doesn't have dishes to eat off of."
"She looks fairly well fed," suggested Charley, shaking her head a little helplessly over the frank statement of the family finances.
"She mustn't get run down, though," said Dick. "When I see one of the squaws, I'll order some dishes, money or no money."
"I don't see why Aunt May didn't send along more of her toys," sighed Charley. "It was so stupid of her! There is nothing at Archer's Springs."
"Don't you worry, Charley!" cried Felicia. "The squaws will make me some. I'll ask 'em."
"That's a good sport," said Dick, hugging the child against his broad chest. He was Felicia's devoted slave, and Charley had no help from him in maintaining discipline. It was she who said now:
"Look at the clock, Felicia, dear."
"I'd rather not," answered Felicia. Nevertheless, she slid off Dick's lap and with the doll and the olla in her arms, kissed each of the grown-ups in turn, and went off to bed.