The twins in the west

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I On the Way 9

II Miss Weatherby 17

Chapter I On The Way

P HYLLIS opened her eyes, yawned and stretched so hard that one of her sharp little elbows poked Janet’s shoulder.

“Oh, Phyl, do lie still!” grumbled Janet sleepily, and rolled over on her side.

“I can’t help it,” Phyllis apologized, “I’m so awfully uncomfortable.” “I’m sorry,” she said after a pause, but Janet was again breathing regularly, and did not reply.

Phyllis looked up at the berth above her. It was pushed up as far as the curtains would allow, and as the train whirled along, it looked

as though it might come toppling down any minute.

“I almost wish Auntie Mogs had let me sleep up there,” she said to herself. “It might have been hot, but at least I could have kicked as much as I liked.” People are always sorry for themselves when they have to lie awake with no one to talk to, and Phyllis was no exception.

“I do believe Janet could sleep in an airship,” she went on complaining, as she listened to her twin’s deep breathing. “She is always willing to talk at any old hour at home.”

Her thoughts travelled back over the miles that they had come during the past few days, to the house in the city, and then, as thoughts often do, they turned to the future, and the future for the Page twins was Tom.

“We’ll see him tomorrow.” Phyllis said the words over and over to herself, until the wheels

ON THE WAY of the train took up the refrain and chanted it as they thundered along.

Phyllis and Janet Page were twins. The most remarkable twins in the world. They had not discovered each other until a year before this story opens, nor had they discovered their brother Tom. Now the united family, with Auntie Mogs Carter as the fairy godmother, were doing all in their power to make up for lost time.

At present Tom was the center of their thoughts. They were going out to Arizona to spend the summer on his ranch. They had been preparing for weeks for the trip, and as Phyllis listened to the wheels shortening their journey with every rotation, all chance of sleep left her, and she stared wide-eyed into the darkness beyond the window.

“Pm thirsty,” she said at last. Very softly she slipped into her dressing gown that was lying at the foot of the berth, reached for her slippers, and without disturbing Janet, crawled softly into the corridor of the car.

For an instant the long aisle of swaying curtains confused her, but after a minute’s hesitation she hurried to the dressing room and drank four paper cups-full of water.

On the way back she noticed how dark the car was, and realized at the same time that she could distinctly hear several people breathing. The thought came to her that she was the only person in the whole car that was awake. She was not frightened, but the idea made her feel suddenly lonely, and she hurried on. Just as she reached her berth a man on the other side of the curtain nearest her gave a loud and a long snore. Phyllis bolted. Without looking particularly where she was going, she dived into a berth.

Janet, do wake up,” she begged, but instead

ON THE WAY of Janet’s calm voice she heard a muffled scream, and was suddenly conscious that her head was pressed against several hard knotty little objects, and her throat held in a strangle-hold.

The knotty little objects were hair-curlers, and they bobbed in terror while their wearer continued to shriek. Phyllis understood her mistake in a flash, and did her best to reassure the rudely awakened occupant of the berth, but to no avail. Miss Weatherby, for that was the lady’s name, refused to be assured. She continued to shriek, and her shrieks brought into the corridor almost every other passenger in the car.

The porter switched on the light, and looked sleepily for the cause of the disturbance. Other curious heads protruded between the green curtains.

“I am being murdered!” Miss Weatherby announced.

“But you’re not,” Phyllis denied hotly. “I made a mistake.” She pulled the curtains apart as she spoke, and her explanation included the onlookers.

There was an amused chuckle, a disgusted grunt or two, and a sigh that denoted complete satisfaction from the father of a small boy, who during the four days of the trip, had been a marked object of Miss Weatherby’s disapproval, then all the spectators returned to their berths, with the exception of Auntie Mogs. She stayed behind to soothe Miss Weatherby, and to offer the apologies that Phyllis seemed incapable of making.

When Phyllis slipped into her own bed, she found Janet with a corner of the pillow stuffed in her mouth, rolling from side to side in a paroxysm of mirth.

Phyllis herself was almost in tears.

“That horrible old lady,” she stormed, “I

ON THE WAY 15

didn’t know I was getting into her berth, I certainly wouldn't have done such a thing on purpose. The very idea of her screaming that I was trying to murder her. She really almost put my eye out with her old hair-curlers.”

A fresh burst of laughter from Janet.

“Very well, laugh if you like, but if you dare to tell Tommy one word of this, I will tell him what you said in the diner the first night we were on board the train,” Phyllis threatened.

Janet sat up and stopped laughing to look at her. “Phyl, if you ever dare — ” she began

Phyllis sat up too, and they looked at one another, both pairs of golden-brown eyes glinting with .mischief.

Phyllis switched off the light, and then without another word they both snuggled down and were soon asleep.

The next morning the porter called them rather earlier than usual.

“Phyl, do you realize that we’re really going to see Tommy tonight?” Janet demanded, wide awake in an instant.

“No,” Phyllis denied emphatically. “The only thing I can think about is that dreadful woman last night. I dreamt I was murdering people in my sleep. I hate to think of facing her this morning.”

“Oh, cheer up!” Janet laughed. “Everybody will have forgotten it by now.”

Chapter II Miss Weatherby

T HOUGH her words were reassuring, they were not however true, for when the twins joined Auntie Mogs and went into the diner for breakfast, all eyes were turned towards them.

“I knew it,” Phyllis said in an agonized whisper.

Auntie Mogs patted her hand as they seated themselves at the table. She was a dainty little lady with the sweetest voice in the world, and she laughed a soft rippling little laugh. “Dear child,” she said, “don’t look so unhappy.”

“But they’re all thinking about last night, Auntie Mogs,” Phyllis protested.

“Of course they are, but you foolish child, don’t you realize that they, none of them, know which of you it was.”

Phyllis’ face broke into a broad grin. It was Janet’s turn to look worried.

“I’m sure they think it was you, Jan,” she teased as she chipped off the top of her egg. “You have a guilty look.”

“Then they’ll very soon be told differently,” Janet remarked with mock decision. “Don’t you think for one minute that I’m going to let these people believe that I go about murdering old ladies in their sleep.”

“Oh, Janet!” protested Auntie Mogs.

Janet could not reply, for at this moment Mr. Burke and his little boy stopped on their way to their table.

MISS WEATHERBY

“Good morning, little ladies,” he began. There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked from one twin to the other. I hope you both slept well.

“Thank you, we did,” Janet and Phyllis answered in chorus.

“No ill effects from last night’s interruption?”

“What interruption?” Phyllis asked innocently, while Janet blushed furiously. “I’m such a sound sleeper that I hardly ever wake up.”

“Oh, Phyllis!” Auntie Mogs laughed in spite of herself, and Janet looked more uncomfortable than ever.

Mr. Burke looked straight into her eyes that pleaded with him not to believe Phyllis, but he only smiled and, with a nod to Miss Carter, left them.

Janet folded her napkin with precision.

“Phyllis Page,” she said, solemnly, “you are a wretch, but I’ll get even with you, see if I don’t.”

“Just wait till we meet Miss Weatherby,” Phyllis replied airily.

They met her sooner than they expected or hoped. Just at the narrowest part of the diner, Janet bumped into her, as the train gave a sudden lurch.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she stammered. Miss Weatherby sailed majestically past her without a word.

They found their berths made up when they regained the sleeper and the porter busy with their bags.

“Better be getting your things together, Missy.” He was cross-eyed, so that the one word did duty for both twins, as they were both equally sure he was looking at the other. “We’ll be getting into Phoenix shortly.”

MISS WEATHERBY 21

Phyllis nodded smiling, and the next half hour was spent in collecting the numerous possessions that accumulate so mysteriously during a trip.

Auntie Mogs joined them when their packing was completed, and put her arm around Phyllis’ shoulder.

“My dear,” she said, trying hard not to smile, “don’t you think it would be nice if you were to apologize to Miss Weatherby?”

“Oh, Auntie Mogs,” Phyllis protested feebly, and she threw a horrified glance towards Miss Weatherby’s seat, a Literary Digest held rigidly in her jeweled hands hid her face from view. Then she gave her shoulders a little shrug. She knew there was no need of protesting to Auntie Mogs, for you always ended by doing exactly what she wanted you to.

“Very well,” she said quietly, “I will.”

But Miss Weatherby made an apology from Phyllis unnecessary.

With a finality that bespoke grim determination, she suddenly put down her magazine, and with a rustle of black silk crossed the car and stood scowling at Janet.

“Young lady,” she began, without any opening preliminaries, “you owe me an apology. Your conduct last night was most reprehensible. You gave me a fright which, with my heart in the weak condition that it is in, might easily have proved disastrous. At your age I would never have presumed to have disturbed my elders, and in such a rude fashion, too.”

Phyllis was about to protest, but Janet, her cheeks very red, silenced her. She jumped up and faced Miss Weatherby, her eyes flashing.

“I do apologize,” she began firmly, “but I want you to understand that I did not do it on purpose.”

MISS WEATHERBY 23

She looked so very angry that even the august Miss Weatherby was taken aback.

“Very well,” she said, striving to maintain her dignity, “I accept your apology.” And she retired not without audible sniffs to her own compartment.

Janet sat down beside Phyllis, and her mouth set in a hard little line.

“Jan,” Phyllis exclaimed, “whatever made you do such a thing? I’m going straight over and tell that horrid old woman that I did it myself.”

“You’re going to do no such thing,” Janet insisted. There was so much determination in her voice that Phyllis, always the gentler of the two, subsided in a daze.

“Really, Janet dear, it wasn’t necessary for you to take the blame,” Auntie Mogs said. “What made you do it?”

Janet looked at her for a minute, and then she laughed.

“To tell you the gospel truth, Auntie Mogs, I don't know,” she confessed. “I really believed for the minute that I had done it, and,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “I wish to goodness I had.”

Phyllis’ hand slipped out quickly and caught hers in a firm clasp of understanding. For the next few minutes they looked out of the window. The waste of brilliant yellow sand that had stretched out into limitless space on either side of the track was giving place to rude shacks and occasional trees as they neared Phoenix.

Suddenly Phyllis gave an exclamation of horror.

“Look!” and she pointed towards Miss Weatherby, who was vigorously tying her bonnet strings. “She is going to get off with us.”

Chapter III

T HE platform of the Phoenix station was broad and dusty and hot. Big men with wide Stetson hats sauntered about, but there were no porters in sight. Auntie Mogs, followed by the twins and the train porter, looked about her curiously.

“You had better put the bags here,” she said, pointing to a bit of shade near the telegraph window. “I will go and find out about our train.”

“Yas’um,” the porter agreed, “right here 111 put ’em, but you all needn’t worry boutin’ your train. It’s the next one goin’ t’other direction. I reckon it ought to be along in a little while.”

He left them smiling broadly. Auntie Mogs disappeared into the station, and the twins were left to their first impressions of Arizona.

“It’s hot,” Janet said.

“Scorching,” Phyllis agreed.

They started about them trying awfully hard to like what they saw.

“It’ll be better at Tom’s ranch,” Phyllis said hopefully, as though she had read Janet’s mind. But Janet only nodded. Her eyes had traveled to the other end of the platform, where a very large and fat Indian woman squatted regardless of the sun and hawked her wares.

“The old darling!” Phyllis exclaimed as she followed Janet’s glance. “You stay here, Jan, I’m going to talk to her and buy one of those ducky baskets.”

“All right,” Janet replied dubiously. “But she’ll probably scalp you. I’m not going to leave the bags.”

Phyllis hurried off and Janet, let alone, continued her interrupted survey. She saw nothing that made her feel at home. And her thoughts turned back to old Chester, with its huge green trees, and tidy village streets. A wave of homesickness caught her.

“I do hope Tom’s ranch won’t be like this,” she said aloud.

“Don’t you worry, little lady,” a voice drawled from so far above her that Janet looked up, expecting to see some one calling from the height of a telegraph pole. Instead she looked into the grinning face of Rusty Savage. As she looked she continued to think of a telegraph pole, for Rusty resembled one as nearly as a human being could. He was almost seven feet tall, and very thin. His dusty trousers were tucked into high boots, and Janet could think of nothing but the giant of the circus.

“Aunt Jane’s Poll-parrot!” was all she could think of to*say. Rusty’s eyes were almost hidden beneath black brows. He closed one of them now to avoid the smoke that curled up from his cigarette.

“My Aunt Jane once had a poll-parrot,” he drawled.

“What was its name?” Janet inquired.

“Julius Caesar,” Rusty replied gravely.

Again Janet laughed, and this time Rusty smiled a slow twisted smile, that showed a row of strong white teeth.

“You’re not alone?” he inquired, and Janet seeing a chance of playing a trick, shook her head and mumbled something about her Aunt.

Phyllis had grown tired of the Indian woman’s “hows” and was coming back to them.

Janet smiled her sweetest smile as she looked up at Rusty.

“Would you mind awfully, watching my bags a minute?” she asked.

“I’ll guard them with my life,” Rusty replied solemnly. And Janet, without waiting for another word, darted through the crowd, towards the approaching Phyllis.

“Go and talk to him,” Janet whispered, pointing to Rusty Savage, whose head was easily seen above the tops of the crowd.

Phyllis nodded. There was no need of further explanation. The twins had played many tricks because of their remarkable likeness, and as Phyllis hurried towards the telegraph window and caught her first glance of the man who was guarding their luggage, she knew that this was going to be the best joke of all.

“Back again,” she said, as she dropped down on a suitcase. “Thank you ever so much, for watching our things.” Rusty looked at her curiously.

“Did you find your Aunt?” he inquired. Phyllis shook her head.

“No, I’m afraid she’s lost,” 6he said mournfully. “I’ll hate being lost in Arizona.”

“Don’t you worry ’bout being lost,” Rusty assured her protectingly. “Where you bound for, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“Loophole, to my brother’s ranch,” Phyllis told him.

“Your brother being — ?” Rusty inquired.

“Tom Page,” Phyllis explained.

“Tom Page of the Twin Star Ranch?” Rusty

whistled. “Well I’ll be ” The rest of his

sentence was cut short by the sudden arrival of a train from the west, and at the same time Aunty Mogs, followed by a shambling creature in dirty corduroys, hurried out of the waiting room.

An instant later Janet came unexpectedly from behind the pillar. The porter picked up the luggage.

“Hurry along girls, here’s our train at last,” Auntie Mogs said. And she smiled at Rusty Savage; everyone did smile at Rusty Savage for one reason or another. Phyllis and Janet smiled, too, roguish mischievous little smiles.

“Good-bye, and thank you,” they said both together, and a minute later they had boarded the train.

They collapsed into a seat, and between gales of laughter they tried to explain to Auntie Mogs.

“But you mustn’t talk to strange men, it’s dreadful,” Auntie Mogs protested.

“I didn’t,” Janet denied, “he spoke to me.”

“Anyway, he knows Tom,” Phyllis laughed.

“Does he really,” Janet exclaimed.

“Well he knows of him, anyway. You and

32 THE TWINS IN THE WEST Auntie Mogs interrupted us, just as we were talking about him.”

“Too bad, but we did have to catch our train. How did he act when you went and talked to him?”

“Just as if he’d only stopped a minute before.”

“Then he didn’t suspect?”

“Not until he saw you, for the second time.”

“Do you think he guessed then?”

“Sure of it.”

“How?”

“Because I saw his face when we grinned at him.”

Auntie Mogs had been busy looking out of the window, and she drew the girls’ attention to the palm trees that lined the streets and later as they left the main part of the town to the Capital building shining white in the glaring sunshine.

They were so intent on the landscape, that they did not hear the commotion at the door. But a minute later they turned in surprise to see Rusty Savage towering above them.

“I’m begging your pardon, ma’am,” he began addressing Miss Carter.

“Yes?” Auntie Mogs smiled up at him.

Rusty rolled his hat brim around and around in his hands, and looked from Janet to Phyllis and back again.

“I’m begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said again, “but one of these young ladies told me you was going to Loophole, headin’ for Tom Page’s ranch.”

“Yes, we are,” Mis Carter nodded.

“Well, you’re headin’ the wrong way,” Rusty managed to explain. “This train’s headin’ for Williams.”

Miss Carter looked at him in amazement, and the twins said, “Oh.”

“I — I kinda thought I better tell you,” Rusty stammered.

“But the man who carried your bags said it was the train for Loophole, and our train porter told us ours was the next train in.

“Mebbe he did, but he was wrong, and as for Mouldy (they knew he was referring to the man in the old corduroys who had carried their bags), he’s likely to say anything.”

“But what are we going to do?” Auntie Mogs asked in distress.

Rusty grinned sheepishly. “Well, that’s why Tm here,” he offered in explanation.

At this point in the conversation the conductor joined them. He was a little man with sharp features. Beside Rusty he looked ridiculous, but he spoke with a great air of authority.

“I’ve just been talking with the engineer, Mr.

Savage, and he says it’s impossible to stop at Hawks Corners,” he said.

Rusty turned, squared his shoulders, and looked down at him.

“I reckon I’ll have to talk to that engineer,” he replied, and there was so much finality in his tone, that the little conductor looked positively frightened.

“I — I don’t think that will do any good,” he stammered, and turned appealingly to Miss Carter.

“You see, ma’am,” he began,” it’s this way — ,” but Rusty’s heavy hand on his shoulder interrupted him.”

“I’ve already told you how it is, and now I guess I’ll have to tell you all over again.” Rusty’s voice sounded very tired and bored, as he went on explaining. “These folks want to go to Loophole and I’m going to see that they get there.” He turned to Auntie Mogs. “My ranch is just outside Hawks Corners and my sister can make you all comfortable. I can get Page on

36 THE TWINS IN THE WEST the wire and we’ll find some way of getting you to Loophole. If you go to Williams you’ll lose two days, besides being mighty uncomfortable in the hotel there.

“But if the train doesn’t stop at your station,” Auntie Mogs protested feebly.

Rusty Savage grinned.

“Oh the train will stop all right,” he replied quietly. Without another word, he put on his hat and ambled out of the car, followed by the fuming little conductor.

Auntie Mogs watched him go and then turned to the twins.

“Well!” was all she could manage to say.

As for Janet and Phyllis, they were both speechless.

Chapter IV At Savage's Ranch

H ELLO, hello, is that you, Tom? Yes I can hear you.” Phyllis was shouting into the telephone receiver with Rusty Savage beside her.

They were in the general store and post office at Hawks Corners, for Rusty, true to his word, had stopped the train. He did not tell them how he had persuaded the engineer, but they had learned that force was required. It had been an easy matter to locate Tom on the telephone, and as Auntie Mogs disliked telephones, and Janet was afraid of them, Phyllis was doing the talking.

“Hello,” she called again, and Tom’s voice, very far away, came back to her.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“At Hawks Corners.”

“How did you get there?”

“We got on the wrong train.”

Tom did not reply for a minute then — “Go to Savage’s ranch?” he called back.

Phyllis laughed. “We’re with him now.”

“Better let me talk to him.” Rusty had to almost double up like a jack knife, before his mouth was level with the receiver. He explained everything to Tom and ended with the words, “Reckon they’ll be all right with me.” Then he laughed at something Tom said at the other end of the wire, hung up the receiver, straightened himself out, and turned to the others.

AT SAVAGE’S RANCH 39

“Tom will be over for you some time today,” he explained. “If you’ll come along with me, we’ll see if we can’t scare up some lunch at the ranch.”

They left the store and found a dilapidated buck board waiting at the curb. It was hitched to two of the most beautiful horses that Janet had ever seen, and at sight of them she gave an exclamation of pleasure, and ran to their heads.

“Oh you darlings I” she cried.

The horses scenting a friend and admirer, nuzzled their soft noses against her shoulder.

Rusty watched her grinning.

“Like ’em?” he inquired.

“Better than anything in die world,” Janet smiled back.

Rusty nodded in perfect comprehension.

“So do I,” he agreed.

They climbed into the wagon gingerly, for its lack of paint and polish made it look as if it might fall into pieces any minute.

Janet sat in the front seat with Rusty, and Phyllis and Auntie Mogs in the back.

Rusty picked up the lines, and they started off at a breakneck speed, which did not slacken until they reached the Savage ranch house.

Janet did not speak during the entire trip. She sat with her eyes fastened on the horses’ ears, her mouth open in an excited little smile, and her eyes shining. Rusty was a wonderful whip, but he realized that he had never exhibited his horsemanship to a more appreciative audience.

On the back seat Auntie Mogs and Phyllis clung to each other in sheer fright, but they tried not to show the terror they felt as they rounded broad, sweeping turns in the road on two wheels.

Great stretches of sand, golden under the sun, melted into the purple mountains in the distance.

AT SAVAGE’S RANCH 41 The table lands rose sharp cut just ahead of them, silhouetted against the brilliant blue of the sky. Great clumps of catsclaw and greasewood grew close to the ground, and every now and then brilliant clumps of wild flowers gave a vivid touch of color. Giant cactus completed the design. And through it all they bowled along at breakneck speed.

Phyllis felt as if she were having a terrible dream or playing the principle role in a thrilling moving picture drama. Auntie Mogs, when she wasn’t too frightened, enjoyed the vivid colors, but Janet never took her eyes off the beautiful pair of black horses.

Rusty’s sister, Miss Agatha, as she was known throughout the countryside, came out on the porch as they drove up. She was a tremendous woman; tremendous in every way. Her hands and feet were like a man’s. Her mouth was wide, and always smiling. Her heavy iron grey hair was wound about her head in tight braids. A blue-and-white checked apron covered her ample frame. Only her eyes were small, the lids drawn into a squint, the result of the brilliant sunshine. She pounded rather than walked. She gave a curious impression that she was breathing in more of the air than was her share.

“Here we are, Agatha,” Rusty called out as he brought the horses to a full stop beside the porch. Miss Agatha hurried down the steps. Her voice was loud and clear as she answered, “Well now, this is a rare treat. Come right in and we’ll have lunch in a minute.”

Auntie Mogs would have thanked her gracefully, but she boomed on.

“It’s a shame they’re letting you get on the wrong train, but Ian’s sakes, one person’s loss is another’s gain. I haven’t been away from this ranch for nigh over a month, and I can tell you I’ve been good and tired of Rusty for company.”

AT SAVAGE’S RANCH

Rusty had taken the horses back to the corral, so he was not there to defend himself, and Miss Agatha went on.

“We’ve had a couple of awful sick colts, and I’ve had to tend them as if they were children.”

“What splendid fun,” Janet exclaimed.

Miss Agatha looked at her and then at Phyllis, as though she could not be sure whcih one had Spoken. She laughed a low rumbling laugh.

“Lan’s sake!” she ejaculated, “you two are as much alike as peas in a pod, but come along in and rest awhile. Lunch will be ready in the shake of a lamb’s tail.”

Auntie Mogs and Phyllis followed her into the house, but Janet slipped around the corner of the porch and joined Rusty as he put up the bars of the corral.

“Good for you,” Rusty called over his shoulder. “I thought you’d slip away.”

Janet laughed. “I bet you don’t know which

44 THE TWINS IN THE WEST twin I am,” she laughed.

“Oh, yes I do!” Rusty exclaimed. “You’re Janet, and you sat beside me on the drive over, and what’s more, you’re the first twin that talked to me at the station this morning.”

“Now how do you know that?” Janet demanded astonished.

“Never you mind,” Rusty told her. “I know, that’s enough. I’ll never get you mixed up again.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Janet teased.

“Come right into lunch, you two,” Miss Agatha’s voice interrupted them from the back porch.

Janet cast one last glance at the horses and followed her host indoors.

The dining room of the ranch house was a long cool room with low rafted ceilings. A narrow table ran almost the whole length of it. Straight-back chairs were ranged along the sides,

AT SAVAGE’S RANCH giving places for ten people. Plain green curtains hung at the window, and gave the room a cool, inviting look after the glare of the sunshine.

Auntie Mogs was already seated at one end of the table, and Miss Agatha bustled Janet into a chair beside them. Rusty took the head. Miss Agatha bumped from the kitchen into the table and back again, bringing in dish after dish of food, until the board fairly groaned, keeping up a cheery conversation meanwhile.

“What time do you think Tom will get here?” Miss Carter inquired, during one of Miss Agatha’s trips to the kitchen.

“Well, he was starting right away,” Rusty replied, “and I think he ought to get here about four o’clock.”

“Then we can’t get back to Loophole tonight?” Miss Carter inquired. And Rusty shook his head.

“No indeed, you’ll all put up here for the night, and make an early start tomorrow morning.”

“It seems a shame to inconvenience you like this,” Auntie Mogs apologized.

Miss Agatha heard her as she returned in the room.

“Inconvenience, nonsense!” she exclaimed. “It’s a rare treat, I can tell you. I only wish it could happen oftener. We women get a bit lonesome sometimes. It’s all right for us old ones, for there’s a heap to do to keep us busy. But when I think of girls like Daisy Weaver I fairly boil.”

As she spoke they left the table, and moved into the combined sitting room and office, to the right of the hall. There were comfortable wicker chairs and the blinds were closed to keep out the noonday heat.