Virginia's romance

Front matter

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Chapter I. A Happy Hour

Margaret, with a happy little song singing in her heart, went quickly about the old ranch house putting it in order. She had cautioned Sing Long to be very, very still in the kitchen as Virginia had said that Malcolm was to sleep until ten, and even the proverbial mouse could not have stolen about more softly than did the Chinaman whose loyal heart held few dearer than the young master whom he had known when he was a helpless wee pink thing in a crib. Nowhere can there be found greater devotion to the family than in the heart of a Chinese cook.

“Me makee Malcolm extra eatees,” he had whispered to the girl, when he heard about the ten o’clock broth.

‘‘Don’t make it out of white mice,” she teased, and the round face of the Chinaman shone with mirth. They were always pretending to be afraid that some day he would serve them with birds’ nests fried or with stuffed white mice.

Then, when the long living room was as speck¬ less as a feather-duster and cheese cloth could make it, Margaret sat down on the window-seat, curled one foot under her and opened the mending basket. She was glad that Virg didn’t like to darn stockings, as that was something really helpful that Megsy could do for her dearly loved sister-friend. If there were thoughts in the head of the girl, as she bent over her work, they were not clearly defined. Now and then she paused to glance toward the closed door and the farther end of the long room. She thought once she heard a stir within. Perhaps she ought to send Sing Long to see if Malcolm wished a drink of water from the olla. But that would awaken him if he were asleep. A neat pile of rolled stockings lay on the window-seat beside the girl when the chiming of the old grandfather clock announced that the hour was only eight. “How much one can do when one arises before five,” she was confiding to a short brown sock, when again her attention was attracted to the closed door, but, to her amazement, it was not remaining closed. It was slowly opening and into the room walked no less a person than the lad who had been told that he must remain in bed all of the morning. What would Virg say, and what could Margaret do?

Springing up, she advanced toward him, her voice expressing her anxiety. “Oh, Malcolm," she said, “oughtn't you to stay in bed longer? Is there any¬ thing you want that Sing Long could get for you? 5 '

“Nary a thing," the lad replied. “I just want to get up. I've been in bed ages longer than usual. I'm going to sit here in this comfortable old chair and just watch you work. That surely ought to be in¬ dolence enough to satisfy the most exacting nurse.”

The girl returned to the window and to her selfappointed task. The lad sank down in the big easy chair and seemed quite content to remain there. “I'm glad you have on your bathrobe," Margaret said, “because then at least you don't intend to disobey one of Virginia's last orders."

“What was it ?" the boy seemed amused that his golden-haired sister should be laying down the law, and that this equally fair young maid should have been left, evidently, to enforce them. Malcolm having assumed the government of men much older than himself, at the age of sixteen, was indeed unused, now that he was nineteen, to be told what he should do. However it seemed rather pleasant, and, settling back into still greater comfort, he inquired, “I haven’t heard yet what you are not to permit me to do.”

Margaret smiled at him. “You’re laughing at us. I know you are, for there are twinkles in those grey eyes of yours. Nevertheless, this is what Virg said to me, ‘If brother awakens before I come back, which I don’t expect, for I told him to sleep until ten, don’t let him go down to the corral. He is to rest the en¬ tire month of August and he isn’t to even think of a calf or a cow or—’ ”

Malcolm threw back his head and laughed heartily. “That dear sister of mine left you rather a large order to enforce.” Then, after a silent moment, he added, “The truth is, just now I don’t feel the slightest desire to go down to the corral, knowing that Uncle Tex is there vested with the full authority to do whatever he thinks best, and neither do I want to think of a calf or a cow.”

Then he was quiet, gazing at the bent brown head and watching the fingers fly. “Little ward-of-mine,” he said at last, “I am envying that needle. It has your entire attention while I, who am supposed to be more interesting, am left to my own devices. How do you know. Nurse Margaret, but that I may be thinking of cows and calves and—”

Megsy laughed, folded the pair of stockings upon which she was working, placed them all in the big Indian woven basket and closed down the lid. Then seating herself in a chair that was more comfortable than the window-seat, she folded her hands in the quiet restful way that was so natural to her. Malcolm smiled as he wondered what she would say. He sud¬ denly realized that he would far rather speculate about his ward than about the dwellers in the corral. For a few moments Margaret said nothing but sat watching the burning root.

Suddenly she looked up, her expression brighten¬ ing. “Malcolm,” she asked, “what do you think about the mystery?”

The lad could not imagine about what Margaret was speaking.

“Mystery?” he repeated blankly.

Megsy continued as though she had not heard. “I don’t believe there ever was a queerer will out¬ side of a story book than that one of Eleanor Pettes’ great-great aunt, Myra. Imagine leaving half of a vast estate to a girl you have never seen and the other half to some man, Hugh Ward, about whom no one living seems to have any knowledge whatsoever, not even her own attorney. The will states that there is a certain room in the house which is never to be opened until these two have met and enter it together.”

Malcolm leaned forward eagerly. “That sounds interesting,” he said as though he were hearing it for the first time. “When Virg read the letter she was so determined to induce me to accept the in¬ vitation that she forgot to tell me about the mystery. We ought to have kept Betsy a while longer, but, if we all try, we may be able to unearth this said Hugh Ward without the aid of a detective.” Then he added with a boyish laugh which delighted the heart of the listener, “Maybe you wouldn’t think it now, but between the ages of ten and twelve I read every detective story that found its way to Douglas. It was my dearest desire to be either a sleuth or a pirate, but alas for our dreams, I just settled down and became a prosaic, humdrum, uninteresting—”

“What is humdrum and uninteresting?” Virginia called from the doorway. The two whirled and, for some unaccountable reason, Malcolm, for the first time in his life, wished his sister’s errand had delayed her for a half hour longer. Perhaps it was because his heart rebuked him for this seeming dis¬ loyalty that he was unusually meek and was about to comply when Virginia told him that he must go and lie down if he had been sitting up ever since eight, (it being nearly nine). He had started reluctantly toward his room, but he turned back to inquire what had happened, for there had been a little cry of excitement from Megsy who had re¬ turned to the window-seat. “Someone is coming over the mesa, ,, she said. “Both the horse and rider are so small, I do believe they are Davie Wells and his burro.”

“Then he is bringing a telegram from Eleanor.” Virg skipped to the door calling over her shoulder, “Brother, wait and hear the news.” Davie did in¬ deed produce a yellow envelope from the crown of his torn straw hat, then grinned delightedly at the shiny silver piece with which he was rewarded. Tearing open the envelope, Virg read the few words, “Everything all right. Will side-track in Douglas Friday the thirteenth. My lucky day. Will wait till you all come.”

“And this is Tuesday.” Virg looked up. “Now how are we to get word to Babs and Peyton?”

“Slim is going to ride to the North toward eve¬ ning. Write a note, Sis, and let him take it,” Mal¬ colm advised.

Chapter II. Celebrating

The suggested note was written, Babs and Pey¬ ton were told to be at V. M. not later than Thurs¬ day afternoon, and, as Malcolm had said, Slim re¬ ported directly after lunch that he was riding to the North, and so the note was started on its way.

The day was hot, and Malcolm, finding that he was far more weary than he had believed possible, was content to lie quietly in the hammock-swing which Virg and Megsy had hung on the cool, North veranda. The girls, having been up before daylight, took their usual siesta, and, when they had awakened refreshed, they at once began to take dresses from the closets and look them over, pre¬ paring to pack.

“What do you suppose one wears in California ?” Virginia wondered.

Margaret knew, for had she not been there? “The climate is much like yours,” she informed her friend. “It is likely to be very cool in the evening though it may be intensely hot at noon.”

“Then we will need cloaks and—”

“Yes,” Megsy interrupted to say, “even your adorable fur boa, for since San Ceritos is close to the sea, it may be ever so cold nights.” Then laughingly she added, “My real reason is that it is so becoming to you, Virg, and you don't have an opportunity to wear it here.”

And so they planned until suddenly Virg, upon hearing the grandfather clock in the living room chiming the hour of five, sprang up. “I .had com¬ pletely forgotten that Sing Long asked to go to Douglas for two days and a night. He left, I sup¬ pose, right after lunch. It’s some sort of a Chinese holiday and he has a number of good friends in the little Chinatown over there.”

Virginia was replacing the dresses in the closet as she did not intend to pack them until Thursday. “I meant to make a cake. You know I spoke of it at lunch. I hardly know what we will have for supper. I wanted it to be something extra nice, because we are sort of celebrating. Oh good, there goes Uncle Tex kitchenward. Megsy, will you read to Malcolm or do something that will keep him quiet a while longer, and when supper is ready, I’ll call you.”

Gladly did the little maid comply, and it was well that she did go out on the porch, for Malcolm was becoming restless, and was just deciding that he would better go down and take a look at the corral when Megsy appeared, magazine in hand. “More orders,” she smiled her brightest at him. “I have been told by the head nurse that I am to read to you until supper is ready, and, as this is the mag¬ azine you received only yesterday, I thought per¬ haps you would like me to read one of the articles. Shall I?”

“Yes, please do,” the reply was eagerly given.

The girl seated herself on a bench nearby and opened it at random. “Shall I read this one, ‘How to make your own irrigation plant ?’ ”

“No, not that,” the lad reached out his hand, “Let me choose.”

When he handed the magazine back to her, it was open at a story entitled “A Summer Idyl.”

“I thought maybe that would be more restful,” he seemed to be apologizing for his choice.

“I’m afraid it’s a love story,” Margaret hesitated as though he might not have realized the nature of his selection. She had heard him say, many a time.

that he did wish they would leave silly swashy love stories out of his technical magazine. What he wanted to know was how to build windmills and other things that were needed on a cattle ranch.

There being no response, Margaret read the sweet little tale to its end. She was glad that it wasn’t silly or swashy, but just the story of a brave little woman who had faith. “It reminds me of the Wallaces,” she said gently, in concluding. “That sort of love is very wonderful.”

The lad was gazing off across the desert toward the distant mountains. “I hope, some day, little ward-of-mine, that you will meet a man worthy of you who will love you that way.”

Then Virginia appeared to announce that supper was ready. In Margaret’s heart there were con¬ flicting emotions. Had she hoped that Malcolm could care for her? She would never, never think of it again. What he had said assured her that he thought only of her as his ward whom he liked but did not love. Megsy assumed a merriness that she did not feel. Gazing at the long table which stood across the end of the kitchen farthest from the big range, she exclaimed, “Why, Virginia Davis, if you haven’t put on the best cloth and the prettiest dishes. Are you expecting company?”

“Nary a bit of it,” that maiden replied, with stars shining in her eyes. “It's an unusual occasion, Miss Selover, I’ll have you know. The beginning of a month’s holiday for his Highness, the Cattle King of—” Virginia quickly paused and put her finger on her lips. “Oh,” she said, “that is the forbidden word. I did the forbidding and then I am the first to use it, but I won’t forget again and woe unto you, Sir Malcolm, if you even think of business.”

“I’m not going to,” the tall lad replied. He was still pale and weak from his recent experience and he permitted the girls to wait upon him to their heart’s content.

“Virginia, you say that you aren’t expecting company,” Megsy remarked, “and yet you have set two extra places at the table. How did it happen?”

Virginia laughed. “Well, it’s the custom of the desert, as you well know, to have one extra place always ready for the possible passer-by who might stop at meal time and if one, why not two, said I to myself, because it balanced the table better.”

The three young people were soon seated and Uncle Tex, who had been busily frying com fritters, appeared with a platter heaped high.

The lad smiled at him. “Am I supposed to eat them all?” he inquired, mischievously. Then he added, ‘‘I do believe that you have cooked enough to satisfy the hunger of an almost starved range rider, if one should appear.”

Margaret and Virginia pounced at the lad, each shaking a finger at him. “You said that forbidden word,” Megsy told him.

“I won’t again,” Malcolm promised; “not if you will pass me the maple syrup.”

A few moments later Margaret lifted her head and listened. “Hark!” she said. “Do I hear the galloping of horses’ feet?”

“Yo* sure do. Miss Margaret,” Uncle Tex ex¬ claimed from the porch doorway. “It’s getting so dark now I can’t be certain who ’tis or what, but thar’s horses a cornin’ down the trail. Like be they are wild burros. They most always nm about in the evening.”

“Probably that’s it,” Virginia had just said, when there came a rap-rapping at the front door.

Malcolm shook his head and looked at # the de¬ pleted platter of com fritters. “Two hungry range riders are about to descend upon us,” he began in a dismal tone as Uncle Tex shuffled away to admit the ijewcomers, but, when the front door opened, it was not the voice of a range rider that they heard.

“Well, if this isn’t the most delightful and sur¬ prising thing that ever could have happened! ’ Vir¬ ginia declared.

“It’s Babs and Peyton! I really believe that we are living in a world of magic after all,” she de¬ clared a moment later when Uncle Tex had led the newcomers out to the brightly lighted kitchen. “Did Slim give you the note we sent and have you come to stay a month ?”

Peyton shook his head. “We’ve been over to Douglas to order the furniture that sister of mine wanted. Trujillo sent for his heirlooms, and the big front room at Three Cross is now quite empty.”

Babs looked at* the shining-eyed Virginia almost in surprise.

“Virg, dear,” she said, “what has happened? There’s something festive-like in the air as though

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“Right you are!” Virg interrupted. “This is a very festive occasion. The King of—or, that is, my brother Malcolm is taking a month’s holiday. Think of that, Peyton, and any reference to busi¬ ness or ranching is forbidden. Whoever breaks the rule will have to pay a fine. But come, I know you are starved! Peyton, you may wash at the porch pump while I take Babs to my room.”

Ten minutes later the young- people were seated, and Babs declared that the table looked just like a party. Virg gaily replied: “Whenever you see a glass dish on our table containing strawberry pre¬ serves you may be sure that we are at least trying to have a party. The sad part of it is that there isn’t one crumb of cake.”

“Who-all said as there wasn’t?” Uncle Tex in¬ quired .as he came to replenish the platter with steaming corn fritters.

Virginia looked up in surprise. “Why, Uncle Tex, you know there isn’t a cake in this house. Didn’t Margaret scald out the cakebox this morn¬ ing and put it in the sun to sweeten, and haven’t we been out of the kitchen all the afternoon? Since you do not bake, how can there be a cake?”

Uncle Tex chuckled. “Leastwise if I war you I’d take a peek in the cakebox before I gave up en¬ tirely,” he told her.

Margaret sprang up. “That reminds me,” she said. “I forgot to bring the box in and it’s dark now.”

“The cakebox came in all right,” Uncle Tex assured them. “Mrs. Mahoy came over this after¬ noon and she fetched it in for you.”

A cry of delight greeted this information. “Oho!

I know now,” Virginia exclaimed as she arose and skipped to the pantry, from whence she soon re¬ turned bearing a huge mountain of cake.

‘Three layers, no less,” she told them, “and a different kind of filling between each, with choco¬ late all over.”

“Three cheers for Mrs. Mahoy!” Malcolm sang out as he waved his napkin. Peyton turned toward his friend in surprise, for he had never before seen other than the serious side of Malcolm’s nature.

The cake proved to be as good as it looked, and, while they were eating it, Uncle Tex slipped to the front room and put a jolly record cn the Victrola. How they all laughed when they heard a gay chorus singing the old cattleman’s favorite selection.

“Malcolm,” Peyton confided, “I’m up against it. I came over here to ask your advice about buying some cat—”

“Sh-h-h!” Virg and Margaret interrupted. “It’s lucky for you that you didn’t say that forbidden word, for the fine is to be heavy.”

Peyton laughed, but looked rather helplessly over at Malcolm, who nodded as much as to say, “Wait until we are alone.” But the girls, suspecting this, stayed with them all of the evening. Babs was elated when she heard about Eleanor’s invitation, but Peyton declared that, although he was glad to have his sister accept, he could not, because he was without an overseer. His heart gave a leap of joy when he noticed that for a brief moment Virginia seemed disappointed. Did she really care for him?

Chapter III. The Heart Of Margaret

The next day dawned gloriously bright and the young people were up soon after the sun had risen.

“It’s such a beautiful sparkling morning/’ Mar¬ garet said, as she threw wide the double doors that led upon the wide veranda. “I do wish we could have our breakfast out here.”

“There is nothing to prevent,” Virg told her. “Babs, you’ll find the porch brush in the box-seat yonder, and, if you will dust away the sand, Megsy and I will spread the table.”

A few moments later Margaret, emerging from the house with a tray laden with plates and cups and saucers, placed them on the table and uttered an exclamation of dismay.

“Virg,” she said to the girl who had followed her closely, “where is Malcolm?”

“In bed,” that lad’s sister confidently replied. “I told him that he must remain there at least till 9 o’clock every day until he is thoroughly rested. But, why did you ask ?”

For reply, Margaret, pointed down toward the corral. Virg looked and was surprised to see her brother and Peyton examining the yearlings that had been driven in the day before by Slim.

“That settles it!” Virg said grimly. “We simply can’t keep Malcolm from thinking and talking about cattle unless we take him away from here. Help¬ ing to solve the mystery ought to interest brother to the exclusion of cattle and all else.”

“What if Malcolm should fall in love with Eleanor?” Babs suggested. “Honestly, Virg, I im¬ agine she is just the kind of a girl your brother would like.”

“Perhaps,” Virginia replied, “but I really doubt his falling in love with anyone.”

Margaret had looked up quickly but neither of the girls was thinking of her, and so she hurried into the house to get the dinner bell which she rang to call the boys to breakfast.

They came, laughing, but knowing they were guilty. “Babs,” Virginia began severely, “how shall we punish these brothers of ours. Shall we give them griddle cakes without maple syrup?”

“You wouldn’t do such a thing, Sis! Why that would be cruelty worthy of a Robespierre. I’ll promise not to talk business when we leave V. M.. but, while we remain, I simply have to take an in¬ terest in our stock.”

“.We’ll soon be away,” Virginia told him, then, turning to Peyton, she added, “I do wish that you could go with us. Isn’t there someone who could take charge of Three Cross’ for awhile?”

Before Peyton could reply, Malcolm exclaimed, “I have a splendid suggestion to offer. Slim tells me his brother has arrived from Texas and is look¬ ing for work. I’ll take him on for a month and loan you my Lucky. He is absolutely trustworthy and he’d like the change.”

“But who would look out for V. M. ?” Peyton in¬ quired.

“Uncle Tex. He was overseer for my Dad for many years, and would be for me, if it were not that I wish him to have greater freedom, now that he is—well—not as young as he once was.”

“Then it’s settled, that is if Lucky agrees. Where can we find him?” Peyton inquired with boyish eagerness. While the lads were gone in search of the middle-aged cowboy, the girls started to clear the table, Babs and Virginia did not notice how quiet Margaret was. “And so Eleanor was the type of girl whom Malcolm would admire!” That is what Babs had said and Virginia had replied that she did not think that her brother would care for anyone or at least not soon.

Margaret sighed, and, leaving the others chatting gaily in the kitchen as they assisted Uncle Tex, she went to the bedrooms to do her morning task.

For a while, however, she did not turn toward the beds, but stood gazing out of the open window at Inspiration Peak, deep in thought.

Of course Malcolm could not care for her. Had she ever supposed that he would? Never before had she really asked this question of her heart.

Eleanor was indeed the type that any lad would like, for was she not talented, and beautiful? “I’m just a little brown wren beside Eleanor/* Megsy thought, “but she is like a brilliant bird of paradise. Of course Malcolm will like her better.”

Then Margaret turned, and, chancing to see her doleful reflection in the mirror, she smiled, al¬ though her lips trembled. “Even if love is not for me,” she thought bravely, “I can love, and that is the better part.”

She began to sing as she spread the blankets, quiveringly at first, and then more happily, for Margaret was counting her blessings.

Half an hour later, the beds having been made, Megsy was arranging fresh scarlet flowers in a bowl on the living room table when she heard a step back of her. Turning she saw Malcolm, and her cheeks were the color of the blossoms she held.

“Well, little ward-of-mine,” the lad said, as he sat on one corner of the table watching her, “are you as eager as the others for this journey upon which we are about to embark?”

Something choked in the girl’s throat, and she did not reply. A tempting thought whispered to her. “If we don’t go, Malcolm might never even meet Eleanor.”

“But I want him to meet her,” the true unselfish part of her nature declared, “if it would bring greater happiness to him.”

Malcolm leaned over and caught the hand that was resting among the flowers and turned Mar¬ garet so that she had to face him.

“Young lady,” he said with mock severity, “do you realize that you are my ward and that you are in duty bound to reveal your thoughts to me. I know that your brain is busily thinking of some¬ thing that you are not telling me. Now Tess up! Am I not right?”

Margaret smiled at him and the lad thought that he had never seen a sweeter expression on the face of any mortal.

“I was thinking of my friend, Eleanor/’ was her reply. “She is so beautiful and talented that I am sure you will admire her. Too, she is a wonderful horsewoman. She plays polo with her pony, and— and things like that.”

The lad, looking intently at the pretty, flushed face of the girl before him was truly mystified. It was very evident that Margaret was feeling in¬ tensely about something. He still held her hand and gazed at her earnestly. “Little ward-of-mine,” he asked very tenderly, “are you unhappy here with us?”

He had noted sudden tears on the drooping eye¬ lashes. Margaret looked up and smiled through the tears that would come. “I never was so happy be¬ fore in all my life. Honestly, Malcolm.”

“I am glad, dear. I want you to be happy.”

Then Peyton had called and Margaret was left alone. She stood as though she were in a trance. Malcolm had called her “dear.” Was she really dear to him? Then she heard a commotion in the kitchen. Virg and Babs were calling to her. “Margaret where are you?” Megsy turned and walked slowly to join her friends. Over and over again her thought repeated: “Malcolm will soon meet Eleanor, and then—” Babs looked up brightly to greet her as she entered the kitchen. Little did she dream that her idle remark had caused such an upheaval in the heart of Margaret.

Chapter IV. A Journey Started

Babs and Peyton left for Three Cross soon after breakfast accompanied by Lucky, who was both proud and pleased to have been chosen for a position so responsible. Babs hurriedly packed the things of which she and her brother would have need and they were back at V. M. late Thursday evening.

Never was there a more excited group of young people than that which was being driven by Slim in the big touring car on the morning of the day following. Bags and suitcases were strapped on everywhere.

“Woe to us,” Babs called, “if we should be stalled. We never could be dug out.” But luckily the sand in the desert road was hard and they reached their destination without mishap.

They soon saw where the private car was side¬ tracked, and the girls hurried toward it, the boys remaining behind to disentangle the baggage from the many ropes that bound it.

Eleanor, who had been reading an interesting book to while away the time until the arrival of her friends, leaped up when she heard their merry shouting and hurried out to greet them, open book in hand.

“Oh, you dear, girls!” she exclaimed as she ran first of all toward the friend whom she had named her “Kindred Spirit/’ Then she held out both hands to Margaret.

When Megsy saw the expression of friendship that was lighting the eyes of the other girl, she felt as though she wanted to throw her arms about her neck and beg to be forgiven for the thoughts that had haunted her for the last two days. She too loved Eleanor and there was only one way to prove love, and that was by service and sacrifice. In¬ stantly she resolved to do all that she could to make Eleanor happy, even Uiough it meant giving up the comradeship that had become so dear to her.

After the greeting was over, she turned at once, and seeing Malcolm approaching laden with bags and suitcases, she beckoned to him. Then to Eleanor she said simply, “I want you to meet my guardian. I am sure that you will like each other.”