As a matter of fact Frieda had lost several pounds, although she was still reasonably rounded.

"No, I had not noticed before, but I observe you have," the Professor returned. "I trust there is nothing serious the matter. What is the doctor's opinion?"

Frieda shook her head. "I have not seen a doctor. Really, I have not spoken of this to any one before, Henry. But do you know I think, perhaps, I have not been well for a good many months, even before I left Chicago. Maybe that is what made me cross sometimes, Henry. Maybe that's why I ran away without telling you I was going. I really think I ought to have talked the matter over with you, Henry. You would have been quite willing for me to make Jack a visit wouldn't you, Henry, just as Frank is allowing Jack to go home to the ranch?"

Frieda's hand holding the tea cup shook a little.

"But I didn't know this was a visit, Frieda. I thought you had gone away for good. Indeed, I am under the impression that you said you never wished to see me again."

Frieda shook her head.

"I never could have really said that, Henry, or if I did, you were silly to think I meant it. I often say lots of things I don't mean. And I have wanted to see you lots lately."

Professor Russell took Frieda's cup away and laid firm hold on both her hands.

"Look at me, Frieda," he ordered quietly, "and don't answer me until you have thought carefully about what you wish to reply. You have been a child a long time, Frieda, but my dear, you have to grow up. All of us must sooner or later. I am a good deal older than you and not only that but I care for a lot of things which seem dull and uninteresting to you.

So do you care for things which do not seem vital to me. But I'm willing to confess I'm an old fogy and sometimes I believe, Frieda dear, I did you a great wrong when I married you at such a youthful age. I want you to know, my dear, that I want to do whatever is best for your happiness.

I am willing to go out of your life, to relieve you of me altogether if in any way it can be managed without reflection upon you."

"Then you mean you don't love me any more, Henry, you can't forgive me for what I did," Frieda gasped, turning really honestly pale this time.

Professor Russell shook his head.

"I don't mean any such thing, Frieda child. Moreover, you know perfectly well that I don't and that it is exceedingly reprehensible for you to go on flirting in this way with your own husband unless you also care for him."

Frieda sighed with satisfaction and lifted up her face to her husband, plainly suggesting by her expression what she expected him to do.

The moment after, she said, with that funny look of gravity which no one ever paid any special attention to from her.

"Do you know, Henry, if you say things like that to me oftener, I feel sure I will care for you more. But please get your hat and come with me now, I want to introduce you to a very dear, old friend of mine in Granchester. Afterwards, if your hand does not hurt, you must go up to Kent House with me to dinner. I intend to let Jack and Frank know that I can manage my own affairs and do not in the future intend to be kept in the dark as if I were a silly child."

The Professor obeyed orders.

CHAPTER XV

THE OLD RANCH

IT was a wonderful May day when Frieda and her Professor, Jack and her two babies and nurse, and Olive arrived at the Rainbow Ranch.

Jim and Ruth Colter and Jean Merritt, who was their own Jean Bruce, of the old Ranch Girl days, drove down to the same funny little frame station to meet them. But beside the automobile they brought a great wagon, which Jim drove himself, in order that they might take up to the house as many trunks and as many people as could not be stored away in the car.

Jack insisted on returning home alongside Jim, seated on the driver's seat, her feet still not quite touching the floor.

She had put her babies in the automobile, with Ruth and Jean, so that they might make each others' acquaintance. Moreover, she had a sentiment in wishing to reach the old ranch with Jim as her companion. No matter what had happened to her, no matter what should happen in the future, Jim, who was her first friend, the manager of the old ranch, and her own and Frieda's guardian, would remain her best friend to the end of the chapter.

She knew, too, that Olive cherished many happy memories, while Frieda was beatific these days in the company of her Professor.

Jack felt a singing in her heart and in her ears as she saw the wide meadows now blossoming with purple clover and heard the western larks rising high over the land, dipping toward it again, then soaring higher up, as if they threw aside the call of the earth for the loftier one of the air.

Jim and Ruth with their children, and Jean and Ralph Merritt and their little girl, when they were at the ranch, lived in the great house which the Ranch girls had built after coming into their fortune through the discovery of the mine on their place. But the old Rainbow Lodge, where they had all lived as little girls when it was rather hard to make expenses in the dry seasons in Wyoming, had never been torn down.

Indeed, as a special request from Jack it had been kept in perfect repair and still remained simply and comfortably furnished.

Whenever there were too many guests at the big house, some of them were sent down here, and more often, when he could bear the ways of high society no longer, Jim escaped to the old lodge for a quiet smoke and perhaps an hour to himself. Now and then Ruth, his wife, would come to join him, and they would talk of the early days at the ranch and their first meeting, when Ruth was a prim New England schoolmarm.

So, as a favor, Jack had asked that the old Lodge be given over to her use while she was at home. She and the babies would come up to the big house for their meals, except at night when the babies could be better taken care of at the Lodge. This would give all the more room for the others.

So, as Ruth, Jim and Jean, realized that Jack sincerely wished this arrangement, they had agreed with her desire. Jack had married so soon after the building of the house, which Frieda had named "The Rainbow Castle," that she had never learned to feel any particular affection for it. So in coming home she wished to return to the house she had loved and remembered.

On either side of the old Lodge, Frieda's violet beds were still carefully tended and today were a ma.s.s of bloom.

Olive and Frieda and the Professor insisted on getting out first at the Lodge with Jack and Jim. When they entered the old living room it was so like the one they recalled that the three women, who were girls no longer, felt a sudden catching of their breath.

But of course Jim and Jean had arranged the old room to look as much like it formerly did as possible. They had the Indian rugs on the floor, the old shelves of books, with just the books the Ranch girls had owned long before, the great open fireplace and the tall bra.s.s candlesticks on the mantel.

Then before leaving for the station Jean had filled the room with bunches of violets, as Frieda had once been accustomed to do.

"It is still just the loveliest, homiest place in the world!" Frieda exclaimed.

Jack did not feel that she could speak for the first minute, and the next Jean had come running in carrying Vive in her arms and with Jimmie beside her. They were followed by Jean's own little daughter, Jacqueline, and by two other little girls, who belonged to Jim and Ruth and another Jimmie, who was somewhere between the biggest and the littlest Jim.

Then there was, of course, the immense confusion of the arrival and the settling of so large a number of guests. Besides there were so many children to be looked after who always must be considered first.

That evening there was a dinner at the big house, at which everybody talked a great deal, asked a great many questions and answered them. But in reality they were all too tired and excited to get much satisfaction from one another.

Afterwards, although Jim and Jack walked home alone to the Lodge, they did not try to say a great deal to each other. Only at parting Jim said, "Have a cup of coffee in the morning early, Jack. I have promised Ruth not to take you too far, but I've a new horse for you to try and I want you to have the first ride over the ranch with me, while the others are still asleep. You and I are the only ones who have ever really loved the dawn out here in G.o.d's country. Ruth has left some riding togs for you somewhere in your room."

Waking before six o'clock next morning, Jack was lying in bed breathing deeply of the sweet clover-scented air, when she heard a never to be forgotten whistle outside her window.

She stuck her head out.

"I'll be down in ten minutes, Jim. Is that the horse for me? Isn't he a beauty? But hitch yours and mine somewhere outside and open the Lodge door, I didn't lock it last night, and come in and start my coffee. I just opened my eyes this minute."

Ten minutes later, as she had said, Jack slid quietly downstairs so as not to arouse her children. She smelt the delicious aroma of the coffee in the old Lodge kitchen, once presided over by old Aunt Ellen, who had died a few years before. She also discovered Jim helping himself to the first cup when she appeared. But instead he gave it to her, got another for himself and handed her a napkin filled with sandwiches which Ruth had provided. Then they drank and munched as silently and contentedly as they always had in each other's company during many years and various experiences.

But they had both stepped out on the big front porch of the Lodge, when Jim suddenly swung round and put his hands on Jack's slender shoulders.

He had seen something in her face which the others had not, perhaps because he had always cared for her most.

"Ain't anybody been doin' anything to you, you don't like, Boss?" Jim demanded, purposely breaking into the old careless speech he had used before Ruth's coming to Rainbow Ranch to educate them all, and Jim more than any one. "Because if anyone has, you know you can always count on your old pardner."

But Jack only laughed and shook her head rubbing it against his sleeve, as a young colt does. This had been one of the things she used to do as a girl, half as an expression of affection and half to conceal her embarra.s.sment.

Then Jack ran out to where her horse was waiting. She had on a khaki riding costume, a new one, but except for that, pretty much of the same kind that she had been accustomed to wearing as Jacqueline Ralston.

She was now looking over the horse critically.