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This was Richie's whole domain, and whether it was really saturated with the care-free atmosphere of childhood, and fragrant with the good breath of the countryside all about it, or whether Julia only imagined it to be so, she found it perfect, and was never so happy in these days as when she and Anna were there.
This was some six months after she had come back to him; six months on her part of clinging to Mrs. Richie's strength; of wondering if David, working hard in Philadelphia, was beginning to be happier; of wondering if Blair was really any happier for her weariness of soul.
"Yes, indeed; 'He taketh the wise in their own craftiness. It was the promise of Mrs. Richie's help that scared him into it! I won't be so crafty next time," he promised in loving penitence.
Work ain't a habit with either of us, but so long as we got to work the ranches with good cooks have the call, and the Bar S and Richie's outfit have special good cooks." The stranger nodded and began to smooth down, hand over hand, his tousled hair. It was very thick hair, oily and coarse.
And then he thought of Mrs. Maitland's "fair and fifty," and smiled, in spite of himself. "Yes, she is rather good-looking," he admitted. And indeed she was; Mrs. Richie's quiet life with her son had kept her forehead smooth, and her eyes eyes the color of a brook which loiters in shady places over last year's leaves softly clear.
You make other women seem such fools!" "Not necessarily," said Barbara, smiling. "And don't think I'm horribly conceited, Julia, talking this way. It's only to you!" They walked a little way without speaking, and then Barbara sat down on a low bank, some quarter of a mile above Richie's cabin, and added: "Do sit down, Ju. You and I are never alone, and I want to talk to you.
With big, coarse, tender fingers she helped Magsie with the last hooks and bands of her toilette. "If you ain't as pretty and dainty as a little wax doll!" she observed admiringly. Magsie merely sighed in answer. Wax dolls had their troubles! But she liked the doglike devotion of Richie's big mother, and the beautiful car Richie's car.
David pointed shyly at the vanishing figure at the end of the waiting- room. "Why, no, dear, that's my father." "I know," said David; "he's Mr. Pryor, Mrs. Richie's brother. He comes and stays at our house." "Stays at your house? What on earth are you talking about, you funny little boy! Where is your house?" "O' Chester," said David. The young lady laughed and gave him a kind glance.
The truth was, that, besides some instinctive feelings of good breeding which combated her curiosity, she saw there was no chance of Richie's proceeding in his narrative while she was in the room, and she therefore retreated, trusting that her own address would get the secret out of one or other of the young men, when she should have either by himself.
Garnet, senior, appeared in a state of excitement, such as he had never been seen before by the little brown-eyed woman, who looked up with a startled glance at his unexpected entrance. "Richie's come," he shouted, waving his hat triumphantly. "I've sent for her, and here she is. I gave the Constable a commission, and he's been and brought Richie, and got all the proofs of her parentage."
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