"I'll make them!" Blue Bonnet declared; and at this threat they both laughed, and the storm was over.

CHAPTER XVI

THE LOST SHEEP

"OH, Carita, do you really have to go to-day?" Genuine regret was in Blue Bonnet's eyes and tone.

Carita sighed.

"Yes, Grandfather expects us back at the farm to-night, and Mother never disappoints him. He's getting old and she doesn't like to leave him alone much. We may come up again before the summer is over,--Father has to be here for several weeks yet."

"But we'll be gone,--we're to leave on Wednesday, you know. Did ever days fly so before? I haven't seen half enough of you, Carita."

"You seem to belong to so many people," Carita said rather wistfully, "I've been afraid to claim too much of your time. But there are other summers. Maybe when you come back from the East next year you can come to the farm,--it isn't much of a journey on the cars."

Blue Bonnet lost herself a moment in reflection. "When she came back from the East"--why, she hadn't even decided that she was going East again--yet.

"And you can come to see me--at the Blue Bonnet ranch," she said.

Carita shook her head.

"Railroad fares are pretty high. We have to be very careful since Father lost his health. That's why we came back from India, you know.

The doctors said that this climate was best for his trouble, and when Grandfather offered us a home on the farm we were so glad. But Father's not having a church--only once in a while when he fills a pulpit for a few weeks at a time--keeps us a little short. I reckon you don't know much about--being short. You have everything you want, don't you?"

"Everybody seems to think that; they forget that I haven't a mother or father--or any brothers and sisters," Blue Bonnet said very simply.

Carita threw her arms impulsively about her friend and gave her a warm kiss. "How mean of me to forget! I wish you were my sister. Boys don't always understand. But you have so many people to love you, you can't ever get lonesome. And having lots of money must be so nice, and to go away to school, and have pretty clothes and go to parties and travel, why--" Carita's breath failed her.

"I ought to be mighty thankful. And I am most of the time," Blue Bonnet replied. "But the people who love you always expect a great deal of you, and it's very hard to live up to their expectations.

Besides, going to school isn't all fun, I can tell you."

"I wouldn't care if it weren't all fun, if I could only go. Father teaches me at home, but we have so many interruptions. There are dishes to wash, babies to mind, Grandfather to wait upon, till neither of us knows whether we're doing arithmetic or grammar." Carita rose.

"I must hurry back to camp--Mother's packing."

"You never forget what's expected of you, do you?" Blue Bonnet asked, with a mixture of wonder and admiration.

"It wouldn't do for me to forget,--I'm the eldest, you know. Mother depends on me." Carita spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a fourteen-year-old girl to be "depended upon."

"n.o.body ever depends on me--for a very good reason!" Blue Bonnet laughed. "Somehow it's so much easier for me to forget than to remember. It's the only thing I do with shining success."

"You'll learn to be responsible when you have children of your own,"

Carita said as sagely as if she were forty instead of fourteen.

Blue Bonnet's eyes shone.

"I'm going to have a whole dozen!" she declared.

"I wouldn't, if I were you--it would be so hard on the eldest," Carita reminded her.

And Blue Bonnet, noticing the care-worn look in the eyes of her "missionary girl," decided that being the eldest of a big family might have its disadvantages.

"Grandmother, I wish there were something I could do for Carita," she said later that morning, as she and Mrs. Clyde found themselves alone.

"You have already done a great deal for her," her grandmother remarked. "Mrs. Judson has told me how much your letters and presents have meant to Carita."

"But that was so little,--and it was just fun for me. She has all work and no play, and I don't think it's fair."

"Perhaps you can do something for her, later on. But you must be careful how you a.s.sume responsibilities, Blue Bonnet. You seem to have taken upon yourself a great many already."

"What ones?" Blue Bonnet questioned in surprise.

"In the first place--you've me!" Grandmother smiled.

"That's so,--I'm responsible to Aunt Lucinda for you. And what others?"

"How about the We are Sevens whom you've brought so far away from their homes? And Alec?"

Blue Bonnet's eyes opened.

"I hadn't thought of them in that way. But I reckon you're right. And there's Solomon, too."

Grandmother's mouth twitched. "You must be sure you can do your full duty by the responsibilities you have before you a.s.sume new ones."

Blue Bonnet looked very serious. "Seems to me life has a heap of complications. Now there's Alec,--he's worse than a complication. He's a downright puzzle."

"Has he said anything more about his trouble?" Mrs. Clyde asked.

"Just hints. But they sound as if he were hiding something pretty bad.

Sometimes I wish he would come right out with it, and then again, I'm afraid. If he keeps on looking dark and broody every time the conversation turns on the subject of health, I'm going to write the General about it. I think _that's_ my duty."

"But Alec looks wonderfully well, bigger, broader and better in every way than when he left Woodford," Mrs. Clyde insisted.

"I know he does. But when I remarked to Knight how well Alec looked, and said I thought he ought to get rid of his foolish notion about himself now, Knight looked queer and asked, 'Do you think it a foolish notion? I think he's dead right.' And Knight's a sensible boy and wouldn't say that unless he thought so."

Mrs. Clyde's eyes reflected Blue Bonnet's look of perplexity. "Have you talked with your uncle about him?"

"No. Just after I talked with you Alec asked me not to mention the matter to any one else. That shuts out Uncle Cliff. I'm sorry, for I'm sure he'd suggest the right thing. There comes Miguel with the horses.

You don't mind our riding a little way with the Judsons do you?

They're nearly ready to start."

"No, so long as you are back for lunch," said her grandmother.

The boys had all gone hunting early that morning, and only the girls of _Poco Tiempo_ were on hand to escort the departing guests. Mrs.

Clyde said good-bye to Mrs. Judson with genuine regret, and kissed all the small Judsons warmly at parting.