“Do, little one, I’d like to hear it,” the old colonel replied. Then he lapsed for a while into quiet thought. The strain had waked the echoes in his heart.
Chapter X
COMPANIONSHIP
IF food and clothes and kindness were all that is needed in this old world, Alta Morgan had all she needed. But there is one vital need that these comforts, good as they are, cannot fill, and that is true companionship. Her uncle gave her fatherly love and protection, but his thoughts were forever with his fine stock and broad hayfields, or in the memories of the stirring days gone by—the war and the wild West.
Aunt ‘Liza, the housekeeper, was a good-natured, bread-and-butter sort of woman, who could stand up under a ton of such work as washing and cooking. She could set hearty meals and keep the ranch house clean and tidy; but her conversation was limited, for the most part, to “Land sakes!” and “Law me!” Her thoughts seldom went beyond the “vittles.” Alta’s heart hungered for higher things.
If she could have found a girl to chum with, one of like tastes with her, she might have been satisfied; but she could not. Sally was jolly enough, big-hearted and wholesome, but she lacked refinement. She could work like a steam engine all day, singing her way through great stacks of clothes to be washed, or big meals for hungry haymakers. She was a helpful, hearty, romping ranch girl, just the kind that Aunt ‘Liza liked. And she was also a great favorite with the fellows, with whom she would dance till morning, but whose ears she would box as quick as lightning if they grew too smart. She could joke with the whole crowd of them and hold her own, but the girl was as pure as she was frank and free. A stranger might have taken her seeming boldness for rudeness or worse, but let him make the slightest step toward evil, he would be checked like a flash and forfeit forever her heart’s hospitality.
Alta liked Sally, but they could never be chums. They both were playful and pure, but there was one strikingly essential difference in their natures that held them apart. Sally’s joys were found almost entirely in sensuous pleasures, such as dancing and feasting and riding the range; a good mince pie was more satisfying to her than a mountain sunset. She cared little for books and music. Alta thought her over bold with the boys. Their natures could never blend.
Mary was nearer to Alta’s inner nature, a gentle little lass, who clung closely to her mother. She was too shy and dainty for the rugged ranch life. Alta wanted someone who liked the out-of-doors. Mary preferred to sit at home doing fancy work. They couldn’t find their fun together; and after all, fun and friendship are largely one and the same thing.
Alta Morgan’s early life had cultivated in her a taste for something better than picnics and dances and beaux. She enjoyed such pleasures, but she found a richer enjoyment in books and in nature. The warblers that twittered and trilled their morning lays out of the breezy willows, the flush of crimson in the dawning sky, the mighty mountains in their many mystic moods—all gave to her soul such feelings as often brought tears. Her heart’s eyes were always open to the wonders of the world about her. And she found them everywhere, from the tender pale-blue flaxflower at her feet to the proud eagle, sailing with the winds in the clear blue above her.
Life was joyous, full of riches, to this responsive, natural girl, developing day by day into queenly womanhood. Every day brought her new and interesting experiences that set her chattering with expressions of delight and appreciation. In these moods she would run home at first to Aunt ‘Liza; but she got only “Law me! child, that’s nuthin’,” so often that she gradually grew discouraged and closed her inmost heart to the practical-minded old lady.
Her uncle tried to respond to her delight over the beautiful flower, or butterfly, or bird’s eggs she would bring to him; but somehow he couldn’t make his old bachelor’s heart be a child’s again, and Alta instinctively felt that he thought of it all as foolishness. Sally made fun of her for “talking so silly about the sunsets.” She found no comfort among these friends. Her heart grew lonely. She was longing for true companionship, for some one who could understand and share her delight in things really delightful, when Fred came into her life.