“You might before breakfast, but not before breakfast time!” laughed Dorothy. “Mr. Ledger says it’s two days’ ride on a good pony to that huge rock that we see standing up there so clearly.”
“I suppose so. Lost River is over that way, too. The foreman says that most of this rolling country we see belongs to the Hardin estate.”
“What a huge, huge place it is!” sighed Dorothy. “And what will we ever do with it all?”
“Ned wants to raise cattle on it,” chuckled Tavia, “but I believe Nat would rather raise mischief.”
Dorothy did not pay attention to this. She was gazing afar, and said very quietly:
“Mr. Ledger says the land is rich enough to raise anything.”
“Don’t you believe all your hear—and not more than half of what you see,” said her chum, philosophically. “Appearances are deceitful. That’s like the little girl who lost her penny.”
“What little girl?” demanded Dorothy, dreamily.
“Oh! it might have been any little girl—who was sharp,” chuckled Tavia. “At any rate a fine, handsome, benevolent old party comes along the street and finds the ragged little girl crying, and asked in that benevolent tone that goes with a white vest and gold-headed cane:
“‘What’s the matter, my little dear? What are you crying for?’