Marian and Frank had arranged several excursions for their last days at the ranch. They had seen fit to include the young folks in only one of these–a day in town when they were to go to the old Mission and look up some interesting Indian Mounds in the neighborhood. Captain Clarke was to be of the party, and, true to his promise, insisted upon driving the boys and girls in himself.
The afternoon Alice and Dick were expected, the girls were down the lane watching for the first glimpse of the bay team, to greet them. They had arrayed Jilly in white with a wreath of forget-me-nots on her blonde curls and a small market basket 221full of hollyhock blooms to scatter in the pathway of the expected guests. Frank was responsible for the hollyhocks. Flowers were becoming scarce, it had been so dry, and Chicken Little was bemoaning the fact that they could hardly find enough to trim up the house.
“Hollyhocks, sure. There’s a whole hedge of them right at your hand. Nothing could be more appropriate for returning honeymooners. Further, they’re gaudy enough to compete with the two inches of dust in the lane. If we don’t have rain pretty doggoned soon we won’t have any crop.”
Both Mrs. Morton and Marian looked up anxiously.
“You don’t think—?” Marian hesitated. She did not wish to burden Katy and Gertie with family worries.
“No, I don’t think, not being in the weather man’s confidence. But a rain inside of the next three days would mean hundreds of dollars to the Morton family and the whole Eastern half of Kansas as well.”
Chicken Little’s mind flew instantly to Ernest’s cherished hopes. “Oh, can’t Ernest go to college if we don’t have rain?”
“Don’t bother your head, Chicken, we’ll find some way to take care of Ernest. Go back to your decorations.”
Ernest and Sherm had spent the preceding evening 222erecting a remarkable arch over the front gate with “Welcome to Our City” done in charcoal letters a foot high on a strip of white paper cambric, depending from it, and an American flag proudly floating above. The girls completed this modest design by trimming up the gate posts with boughs.
Mrs. Morton’s preparations were more practical. Three peach and three custard pies crowded a chocolate cake and a pan of ginger cookies on the lowest pantry shelf. The bread box lid would not shut, the box was so full, and a whole boiled ham was cooling down at the spring house, not to mention six dismembered spring chickens which had been offered up in place of the regulation calf.