It was midnight when the j.a.p "cleany yupped" after the spread furnished the serenaders, but no dance at its best, could have been more novel or enjoyable. The girls remained on their second floor balcony, while Mr.

Allen descended to entertain in the big, roomy kitchen, but even from that distance Jane and Judith heard the "pieces spoke" and joined in the laughter following some of the ludicrous attempts at histrionic feats.

"After all," philosophized Mr. Allen, "living near to Nature makes children of us all, and our boys are mere kindergartners when it comes to home sports."

"I always feel like a leader in a Sunday school," commented Aunt Mary, "when we entertain them. It is surely a good work, and they are so appreciative."

"And I always feel like-well, as if I belonged to the idle rich, when the boys pay us a visit. It is so narrow to have to make cla.s.s distinction, and feed them in the kitchen," Jane objected with a note of scorn in her voice.

"Now, Janie," insisted Judith, "didn't Woo Nah say something about Bolshevism and the Girl? Your sentiments sound rather extreme. Can you imagine Dingo Joe among forks?"

"Boy all samee too much grub," objected Willie Wing the cook. "Likee big cow."

The above is an excerpt from the conversation that sifted through the Allen home on the morning following the "doin's" catalogued as the Cowboys' Serenade. Jane and Judith both made copious notes of the occasion in their diaries, but in spite of these records the real story was not to be told in mere words. It required the language of the boys themselves to give the affair its actual color. This was, however, plentifully supplied all over the ranch for at least a day after, and the consensus of opinion seemed to be, "that Miss Allen was a peach,"

and her friend "some girl." Also "that Chief Allen ought to be president of the United States, and the little sister woman would be all right for the first lady of the land."

The boys had rehea.r.s.ed for their concert for more than a week, and consequently what was not given in perfection was supplied in enthusiasm, and the memory of that performance, for actors and audience, would not soon be obliterated by the everyday work of life and its prosaic demands.

So it was that the last day at home for Jane Allen had arrived.

The presence of her friend, Judith, softened the usual sadness of the hour of parting. Mr. Allen was both father and companion to his high-strung, brave little daughter, and the separation was necessarily momentous. Judith, alert to the situation, bubbled around, blowing in and out, on all the little love scenes, managing adroitly to curtail Jane's meditation before the reverenced picture of "Dearest," Jane's departed mother.

"I can imagine what will happen when we take up our New York quarters,"

she prophesied as Jane was all velvet-eyed and unnaturally quiet after a "word" with Aunt Mary. "I am so glad I can go with you, and not be required to report home first. Our folks will be resting until Kingdom Come after that Coast tour. We had so many delays and mixups."

"Oh, I could never go to housekeeping without you, Judy," Jane replied brightening. "I dream of the shopping tours and the hunting trips, and I match colors with my Polish girl's eyes, and take samples of her hair to bed with me. I have not really decided on her hair, although I rather incline to blonde."

"Oh, of course. I never saw a Polish girl other than a blonde,"

declared Judith. "But, Janie, I cannot help wondering how your daddy trusts you with so much-money. This will be very expensive."

"You forget, Judy dear, that I am his confidential clerk. I could run this entire ranch if daddy were incapacitated. He misses Dearest so much I feel I must be more than just plain daughter to him," and her soft gray eyes became suspiciously misty again.

"Well, I'm packed. Thank goodness my trunks went on from the coast! Do you remember how I packed someone's dress in my bag at Wellington? It may be funny to one's friends, to do absurd things through absent mindedness, but it simply terrifies me to think of what I may do with others' money and such trifles. Aren't you afraid, Janie dear, I will run off with some of your family plate?"

"Not the leastest bit," and Jane swung around to give her chum a punctuating hug. "Judy, haven't you promised to keep your failing for your enemies, and never to work it off on your friends?" she reminded the girl, who was fairly dancing around the s.p.a.cious room, as if wanting to cover every inch of it before bidding good bye to El Capitan.

"Yes, I know, Janie. But I have a horror of certain things," and she glanced quizzically at the wonderful silver set on Jane's mahogany dresser. "Then, too, I might walk in my sleep and-go right down stairs and talk sweetly to Fedario on one of his serenade sprees. But, Janie, I shall never forget-to-love-you."

The journey East began next morning.

"It must be the quiet of the country that gives you such a wonderful set of nerves," Judith ruminated when they had reached their compartment. "I always feel I must explode, even when there is no chance of combustion. Here we are, without a hair lost, and I felt ten minutes ago we would never make this train."

"Perhaps it is sort of self reliance," Jane ventured. "We ranchers never miss a train-wouldn't dare to, we would have to wait too long for the next; but neither would we feel justified in getting all ruffled up in excitement. That is bad for-georgette crepe," she finished, smoothing the texture mentioned, in her dainty little blouse, that had brushed up the least bit in the final good byes.

"Now we can think of Wellington," proposed Judith, settling back comfortably.

"I just can't bear to see Montana running away from me, so I refuse to look," and she wheeled her chair around, back to window.

"As you like," agreed Jane. "But I am so fond of all the high spots of Yellowstone I want a very 'lastest' look. But let's to Wellington. I do wonder how many of the old set will be back? The war has changed so many homes, we may have to take over an entirely new contingent."

"Best luck," commented Judith. "We may thus eliminate the undesirables."

"And get a lot very much worse," feared Jane.

"How could we, with Marian Seaton?"

"But we had Adrienne, and Norma and Dorothy-they more than outbalanced the rebels."

"Well, I claim," and Judith produced the inevitable box of chocolates from her Indian beaded bag, "I claim that a girl who does not love-me or you, is not normal, for it is perfectly evident and obvious, and other synonyms, that we are simply-charming." When Judith "went in the movies" even so far as to act a scene in the drawing room car, she never failed to "register" strong emotion.

CHAPTER VI-JOURNEY DE LUXE

"Judith," said Jane with the solemnity of a senior, "I really feel we are facing a momentous year. Sports must be revived with vigor--"

"Oh, you will take care of that, Janie dear," interrupted Judith. "Even when I want to sleep a bit late o' morning, and have been reading a little after hours the night before, I recall you have a knack of getting me out to practice. Now remember, girl, I positively refuse to hike a la empty. I must have my porridge first."

"But as I was saying about sports," returned Jane, "I am ambitious for this year. We ought to make it the banner year for basketball."

"And we shall," declared her chum. "With the skill you developed last season, and the wonderful team work we marshalled, I don't see why we shouldn't be able to go out, and simply eat up the other colleges. I've been playing bean bag with the j.a.p cook in Los Angeles to keep in trim."

"Thought beans were too costly to toss around," joked Jane. "Judy, look at that dear little old lady over there," indicating a chair near the rear of the car. "Just see the sampler she is working."

"Yes," and Judith swung a bit towards the aisle. "I have been watching her. She is working a family tree. Wonder for whose hope chest."

"I was surprised to know that mothers are now making samplers for their sons," Jane followed. "Seems rather queer for boys to encroach on the girls' fancies. I know a mother who has two boys, and she has a family sampler made for each. Also, she has a wonderfully stocked hope chest for them. Seems to me she must have had some difficulty in choosing the hopefuls."

"Suppose she made it all face cloths, and socks and neckties. But really, I don't see what she could collect that would keep in style. A hope chest for boys! Ridiculous!" sneered Judith.

"Some boys are very sentimental, you know," Jane reminded her.

"But mothers should not encourage such weakness," protested Judith.

"Well, I hope your boy has a chest full of-chocolates," and Jane helped herself to the disappearing confection.

"I haven't had a chance to show you my new vanity case," Judith broke in. "Don't you think it pretty?" and she produced what looked like a little medicine emergency kit. It was of black stiff leather and made square, absolutely contrary in effect to the soft velvet pouches so long in vogue.

"Oh, isn't it lovely!" enthused Jane. "And such a mirror!"

"Yes, I can almost see how my skirt hangs with it. I found it at a fair in Frisco. It was a prize sample. And, Jane dear, I have one for you, in a brown that matches your hair, but I was so disappointed that the initials were not on it, and I had to send it back. It will be ready, though, by the time we get to New York once again."

"Oh, how-wonderful!" and Jane squeezed the hand that still brushed the candy box. "Judy, I have held off from a 'vanity' because I have been too vain to invest in one. Do you know, I think, honestly, that when we deliberately ignore conventions we usually do it through pride? Too proud to depend on a traveling boudoir."

"Oh, no, dearie, not at all," contradicted Judith. "Only, you can depend on your looks staying-regular Yale. There, that's a joke. Jane Allen has Yale locks of copper and-iron. Warranted not to yield, nor break, nor open without the registered key. But I know, Janie, you will like your bag. I was no end disappointed not to bring it along with me."

"But it is rather nice to have one surprise saved," Jane insisted. "We have been using up a lot of joys lately, don't you think?"