Jack and Ruth were both swept aside by the onslaught of Frieda, Jean and Olive.
"How on earth did you decide to come? When did you come? Why did you come?" Jean demanded all in one breath and then stopped to laugh at herself.
Jim was staring at the little party critically. He looked more western and unconventional than ever in his big, broad-brimmed, felt hat, his loose fitting clothes, with the tan of his outdoor life still showing on his strong, handsome face.
Jim's deeply blue eyes suddenly crinkled up at the corners in a way they had when he wanted to laugh or to show any particular emotion.
"Well," he drawled in his slowest and most exaggerated cowboy fashion. "I've been thinkin' lately that I was gittin' a bit tired of bein' everlastingly left at the post. Seems like you been acquirin' so much culture and clothes I was kind of afraid you might not want to know me when you got back to the ranch. I ain't so sure about the culture, but I'll capture the glad rags all right soon as you girls are able to go on a shoppin' party or so with me." And Jim, glancing at an Englishman just passing them, attired in a top hat and frock coat, pretended to wink.
No one was deceived in the least by his poor pretense of a joke. Jim was really so much upset by the pleasure of seeing Ruth and the girls that he was talking foolishness to cover his emotion.
Frieda's break, therefore, saved them all "Oh Jim, won't you look too funny, dressed like a gentleman!" she exclaimed, and in mock wrath Jim marched the five of them off to their cabs.