The truth of the matter was that Frieda Ralston would have been somewhat happier and certainly a great deal better off in many respects could she now have turned back the pages of her existence for a few months and been again that same little yellow-haired girl who was the beloved of every man, woman and child within the thousand acres of the Rainbow Ranch, for Frieda had lately been getting into a kind of mischief that is of a serious nature, whether practiced by a young girl or by very much older persons. She had been spending far too much money.
After the trip to New York and the purchase of the blue silk gown and velvet coat a number of weeks before, the desire for beautiful clothes awoke in Frieda. Remember that she was only a Western ranch girl and had never dreamed of such splendors as the New York shops afforded, neither did she have any very clear idea of the real value of money. Because gold had been discovered on their ranch and because Jack was sending her fifty dollars as pin money each month, Frieda considered that their wealth must be fabulous and so she had contracted the very dangerous habit of buying whatever she wished without considering the cost, and the way she managed to do this was by making bills!
Earlier in the season, when the girls had found it difficult to go into town for every little purchase it became necessary for them to make, Ruth had opened a charge account for the three ranch girls at one of the best of the New York shops, but the bills were expected to be sent to the girls and to be paid out of their allowances. Jean and Olive had made only a few necessary purchases, but though no one else knew of it, Frieda had lately been buying with utter recklessness.
Indeed, the gorgeous kimono which had just electrified the other two ranch girls was only one of a number of articles that had arrived that very afternoon and been delivered in the care of Mollie Johnson. Hanging up in Mollie’s closet at the same instant was an equally charming garment, almost of the same kind as Frieda’s, save that it was pink and but lately presented by Frieda to her best friend.
So it would appear that even though Frieda might be keeping the letter of the law in not speaking of their wealth at Primrose Hall, she was certainly not obeying it in spirit, and indeed she had broken her promise altogether on the afternoon when she and Mollie had been alone together, while Olive and Jean were drinking tea at “The Towers.”
Not that she had meant to do this when Mollie came in; far from it. The story had just leaked out quite innocently at first. For Frieda naturally began the conversation with her friend by telling her that Jean and Olive had gone to tea with the Harmons, and then that they had learned to know the Harmons because they had rented their ranch to them the summer before. From the ranch the speaker traveled very naturally to the Yellowstone and the story of Jack, told many times before, and coming back again to the ranch ended with Mr. Harmon’s effort to buy the Rainbow Mine.
When this word “mine” popped out, Frieda had stopped suddenly, but it was soul satisfying to observe how her friend Mollie’s eyes had grown wider and bigger with admiration and surprise at her words. “Why, Frieda Ralston,” Mollie had reproached at once, “you don’t mean to tell me that you are an heiress as well as everything else that is interesting! Why, you have let me think that you were poor before, though I have wondered sometimes about the lovely things you have been buying. Do please tell me whether your mine is copper or silver or pure gold?”
To Frieda’s credit it must be stated that when Mollie thus began her very natural investigation of her story, she felt at once both sorry and frightened. “It is a secret, Mollie,” she began; “that is, I don’t see any sense in its being, but I have promised Jack and Jean and Ruth Drew not to talk about our money at Primrose Hall, since we would rather have our friends just know us as ranch girls, but we really have a gold mine. Do you see why I shouldn’t talk about it?”
Earnestly Mollie shook her head.
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t, so long as I have promised,” Frieda conceded; “but now I have told you of it without meaning to, I am glad, for I do just want to talk about it with somebody and you are my dearest friend and I wish you to know everything about me.”