Luncheon proved a merry little meal. When one has been suddenly lifted out of the dumps by the arrival of a friend from afar, and afterward doubly cheered by exceptionally good news, the dreariness of a rainy day is soon forgotten.
Returned to the living room after luncheon, Marjorie drew forward a deep, soft-cushioned chair with wide padded arms.
“Take this chair, Ronny,” she invited. “It’s the most comfortable old thing! In winter it is my pet lounging place at twilight. I love to curl up in it and watch the firelight. Captain likes that wicker chair near the table. General and I always fight over this one. If he gets it first, I try to tip him out of it. I might as well try to move a mountain. He braces his feet and sits and laughs at me. Ruffle, my big Angora cat, claims it, too. He always looks so injured if I lift him from it.”
“An extremely popular chair,” commented Ronny, smiling. Settling back in it, she added: “I don’t wonder you all fight for it. I shall enter the lists, too.”
“You are welcome to it. You’re company. It’s only the Deans who won’t respect one another’s claims, Captain excepted. By the Deans, I mean General, Ruffle and me.”
“Much obliged for clearing me of the charge,” her captain remarked with twinkling eyes. “You should hear those squabbles, Veronica. They are noisy enough to bring the house down.”
Veronica laughed, yet into her gray eyes sprang a wistful light. “My father loves to tease me like that,” she said. “We had such good times this summer at Mañana. That is the name of our largest ranch. We live there most of the time.”
“Mañana?” Marjorie looked questioningly at Ronny. “That means ‘morning’ in Spanish, doesn’t it? I know a few Spanish words. General speaks the language. His trips often take him to Mexico.”
“Yes, it also means ‘tomorrow,’” Ronny answered. “The full name of our Mañana is ‘Lucero de la Mañana.’ It means ‘Star of the Morning.’ I named it. Father bought it when I was twelve years old. The first time I saw it was one morning before seven. We were on a riding trip and could look down on it from a height. It was so beautiful, I asked Father to find out if it were for sale. It belonged to a Spanish woman, Donna Dolores de Mendoza. She was willing to part with it, as she wished to go to Spain to live. So Father bought it. I hope someday you will visit me there. I shall never be satisfied until the Dean family are under the Lynnes’ roof tree.”
“Someday,” Marjorie made hopeful promise. “General has said he would take us on a western trip sometime.”