Jack blushed uncomfortably. "Hear, hear!" Jean exclaimed half in fun and half in earnest. "For goodness' sake, don't shower any more compliments on Jacqueline Ralston or we won't be able to live with her. I don't see why you find so many marvelous virtues in her. Consider what an angel I am, and yet nobody is devoting her time to mentioning my noble qualities."
Jack extracted a sofa cushion from Elizabeth's pile, flinging it with accurate aim straight at her cousin's head. Jean returned it with interest and then the girls chased one another around the trees until they were out of breath.
A little later Mr. Drummond and Jim Colter were seen walking toward them, summoning them to the hotel. The entire company gathered up their belongings, and Donald carried his sister to a rolling chair which they had brought along in the stage.
Jean lingered a little in the background, putting her arm about Ruth's waist to draw her away from the others.
"Ruth, dear," she said, with a far-away expression in her eyes, "you've a tiny flower in your buttonhole which has been there all day. I wonder if Jim gave it to you?"
Ruth nodded. "Why do you ask?" she inquired.
"Oh, for no particular reason," Jean answered, "only I happen to know that Jim got up soon after daylight this morning, and climbed for miles and miles up a steep hill. Why don't you choose that flower, Ruth, as appropriate to your character?" Jean proposed, and her expression was so innocent that Ruth began to guess at her meaning.
"The flower is called Indian Paint Brush," Jean continued; "but the name has nothing to do with you. It is only that it grows on the peaks of high, cold mountains and one has to climb and climb and struggle and struggle to reach it. Poor old Jim!"
Ruth made no reply to her saucy companion, but hurried on to join the rest of the party.