“Well, I’ll go,” said Dorothy, rather displeased it must be confessed. “But I wish we’d never seen Lance Petterby—that I do!”
“Why, Dorothy Doolittle Doodlebug! how you talk,” cried the innocent-eyed Tavia. “And he’s been such fun! Why, without Lance my trip out here to the ‘wild and woolly’ would have been without a particle of savor. And I’m going to send him a necktie for a Christmas present. Going to knit it myself.”
“If Nat heard you say that, he would observe, ‘Yes, you are—nit!’” chuckled Dorothy. “And Lance never wears a necktie. A red handkerchief around his neck, and tied behind, is his limit.”
A little later, in their chic riding habits, the girls ran down to the corrals. The Mexican girl appeared from the Ledger shack to attend them.
“Flores is such a nice little thing,” Tavia said to Dorothy as Flores caught and bridled the second pony. “Don’t you wish she was going back East with us?”
“Perhaps she wouldn’t be happy there,” replied Dorothy. “Mrs. Petterby is going to take her in hand and—so the old lady says—going to make a thorough New England housewife of her.”
“And I wager you put her up to it,” retorted Tavia. “Why is it, Doro, that you are forever thinking of other people, and doing things for them?”
“Nonsense!” said Dorothy, blushing. “Flores ought to have a better chance.”
“Oh, Mees!” cried the pretty, dark skinned girl, as she brought the second pony up to the gate. “I am so ver’ sorree dhat you go ’way. We shall be l-l-lonely here wit’out you. See! I soon dhe Ingleesh sp’ak nice—no?”
“It’s fine, Flores,” declared Tavia, laughing. “Who has taught you so much?”