The choice had been Cecil's own. Even now he was not regretting it, only it was difficult to escape a natural sense of loneliness, a slight sensation of being deserted.
"Jeanette, suppose you walk down to the end of the platform with me alone. I wish to say something to you. Via may of course come with us. I have not the cruelty to suggest that Via give up having you with her for a moment."
Jeanette hesitated, looking at the other friends surrounding her. Lina and Eda, a few yards away, were at present saying good-by to Mrs. Perry. Eda had thrust her hand into her stepmother's and was holding her as if she feared she might escape. Shy with strangers and of unusual surroundings, she was excited and unhappy over the thought of Jeanette's departure and of the approach of the train that was to bear her away. Not often willing to reveal her dependence upon affection, her stepmother felt as if a shy, wild bird was nestling inside her hand.
Lina was standing beside her father and talking at this moment to Mrs. Perry.
In another moment Jeanette was planning to say farewell to her companions and join her own family for the short time that remained to her. Therefore she did not feel inclined to agree to Cecil's request.
"Please do what I ask, Jeanette. Remember how unfair you have been to me in times past! Make up in this fashion."
Whether or not Cecil were in earnest, Jeanette Colter could not be sure. However, his words decided her. She had not always been fair to him and in a way owed him a great deal. In the future she might be very dependent upon his mother's kindness and affection.
The two girls and their companion moved a few steps away from the others, strolling leisurely toward the end of the station platform. At the moment the rain was falling in a sheet of gray mist.
"Don't you think we somehow have changed places, Jeanette, since our first meeting?" Cecil inquired. "In the first weeks after my arrival I disliked the West and the outdoor life. I remember I regarded nothing with favor, not even my neighbors. I was homesick, Jeanette, as I told you then. I wasn't so bad as I appeared. Now I have learned to love the ranch life. Why I even love the rain on the prairies and the way it falls and disappears on the patches of desert sand, like jewels being caught up by a great underground magician. Good gracious, am I growing poetical, Jeanette? This must be due to mother's departure and to yours. What I wanted to say is knowing you has done me a lot of good. You did brace me up in those early days. I was determined no girl should have a right to think of me as you did. So I set myself to learn to like the Western life and have succeeded pretty well.
"You have grown tired of it. You may not realize this and I appreciate that you are sorry to be saying good-by to us this afternoon. Still the fact remains that you are yearning to see new places and meet new people and try a new kind of life. You are a Ranch Girl no longer!"