“That’s mother—there’s mother now,” cried Jean, and she sent out a long, clear call of happy greeting that was answered by the lamp, raised and lowered as a welcoming signal.
“Guess she’ll be glad to see us coming home,” Mr. Murray said. “She’s anxious to meet you after reading of you in Jeanie’s letters.”
“Just the same as we want to know all of Miss Murray’s family,” Ruth replied, eagerly. “You don’t know how we’ve coaxed her over and over to tell us about them and the ranch.”
“You’ll have to wait for daylight to get an idea of the place. Whoa, there, Peanuts.”
“Peanuts! Is that its name?” Sue asked.
“It sure is. Because of the most inordinate longing and yearning and hankering after peanuts that ever a horse had.”
Mr. Murray laughed, as he got out, and lifted down the girls. Jean was already in her mother’s arms, and trying to introduce the new guests at the same time.
“Well, come in, do, all of you, where the light is, and I can see you to tell you all apart,” exclaimed Mrs. Murray, happily. “Father, you and Don put the girls’ trunks down in the cabin there.”
“We didn’t bring any, Mrs. Murray,” said Polly. “Only our suit-cases.”
“They know this is not a summer resort, mother,” Jean put in. “I told them just to bring what they would need for roughing it.”