"But you boys don't talk like Quakers!"
"No, we don't use the plain language any more. You see we have been at school with other boys who didn't use it, so we got out of the way. Father doesn't use it to people of the world, either; we only use it at home. We've always lived in Ohio. Where did you used to live?"
The sadness which the conversation of the last few minutes had driven from the face of the little "Princess" returned.
"We really lived in New York," she said. "But we traveled about so much I don't know just where our home really was. You see Papa was a writer—wrote books, you know, and he had to travel about a lot, and Mama and I always went with him. She could never bear to be away from him, and they always took me. We lived in France and Italy and Germany and Russia, and it was awful cold there in Russia, and Papa took sick. He was awfully sick, we thought he was going to die. The doctors sent us back to America, and we came out West for his health. We got a wagon and team in Chicago and were on our way to Colorado. He was better—lots and lots better, and he might have got well, but then—then——" Her voice broke and the tears welled up into her eyes.
"Oh," broke in Lige, who could not bear to see the clouds obscure the sunshine of the past few minutes, "you ought to see what we've been through! I tell you we've had adventures! We came all the way from Ohio in these wagons, and I tell you what we've had some lively times!"
"What kind of adventures?" queried the Princess, the natural curiosity of a child aroused by these allusions to incidents of a thrilling nature.
"O Jerusalem, all kinds of 'em!" cried the delighted Lige, fairly swelling with importance. "We got into a flood an' nearly lost our wagon, and coyotes got after the horses, and little David got lost an' fell into the river, an'—an'—oh, all kinds of things!"
"Tell me about them," demanded the Princess, who dearly loved a story.
Lige looked at Joe. He was a handsome boy, who was fond of occupying the centre of the stage, but he knew that his brother could do greater justice to the thrilling adventures they had been through than he could.
"You tell her, Joe," he said. And as Joe pulled the horses into a smoother place in the road and threw one leg over the other, the little Princess settled down beside him, her chin in her hand, her great violet eyes fastened upon his face, as he proceeded to tell their story.