“Miss you? I wouldn’t stay here without you, child,” protested the Admiral. “Do you think that Glenwood is preserved for a worn out, retired old salt like myself? It is only a garden spot for the rearing of my rose, Polly; remember that. Now, to bed with you, or Welcome will scold me for keeping you out too late. If you should get into any trouble, or need a relief expedition, remember it is always here ready to start West.”
Polly rose, and hesitated a minute, as Aunty Welcome called her indoors. Then she said softly:
“I sometimes think that I am the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Why?” asked the old Admiral, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “Because you are Polly Page?”
“No, not that, dear,” replied Polly, seriously. “Because I am Polly Page’s grandfather’s granddaughter.”
And before the Admiral could reply to that parting shot, she had run up to bed, laughing.
CHAPTER IX
THE HOMESEEKERS’ SPECIAL
When the 8:35 local for Washington left Queen’s Ferry, the morning of the tenth of July, it carried Miss Murray and her five girl charges, westward bound. The Admiral went down to the station to see them off, together with Mrs. Warner, and Mrs. Lee.
“Don’t worry about them one bit, please,” Jean said, as she clasped each of the mothers’ hands. “It is not a wild-west affair at all. Ours is a dear, home ranch, and we will keep the girls out of any trouble.”