Jack was pale and not altogether sure whether she was the more happy or unhappy over Frank's presence, yet somehow her unusual pallor was not unattractive, with her burnished brown and gold hair and the healthy scarlet of her lips. Then in some indefinable fashion Jack's expression had recently grown gentler, indeed tonight her manner held a certain timidity, giving her one of the charms that she sometimes lacked.

Both Olive and Jean were also simply dressed, since their dinner party was an impromptu one and entirely informal. Olive had on a lavender muslin with a bunch of Frieda's violets at her waist, while Jean was dressed in a pale yellow voile frock with primroses embroidered upon it.

Ralph Merrit frowned and then tried to smile as Jean came forward to shake hands, congratulate him and meet his guest, "What right had a poor fellow even to dream of a girl so fitted by beauty and grace to every high position? Suppose by some miracle Jean should in time learn to care for him, what would he have to offer her? Here was Frank Kent (and Ralph was perfectly aware of Frank's intention), and if Jack cared for him she would have all the things of this world that Jean so frankly loved, wealth, a high social position and one day an old English t.i.tle."

But while Ralph Merrit was continuing to pursue this wholly futile train of thought, Jean was every now and then glancing toward him demurely from under her heavy shaded brown eyes with a look which he perfectly understood.

"What in the world is the matter with your friend, Mr. Russell?" the look said plain as any words. For Jean was doing her level best to talk to the stranger and in return for her efforts he would not even turn towards her.

On first being introduced to Jacqueline the Professor had turned crimson to the tips of his large ears, though in a measure he had been prepared for one girl, since Ralph had mentioned a "Miss Ralston" in connection with the ownership of the Rainbow Mine. Later the meeting with Olive had added resentment to his confusion. Why had Merrit not warned him of what he would have to endure? Jean was an impossible third. Why, no such misfortune as meeting with three girls had overtaken him since he reached the great womanless West! For though the West did have its tiresome quota of females, so far he had managed to escape speaking to any of them except on strictly business matters.

Well, he was in for it now, and would have to endure the evening as best he could; yet already he had made up his mind to escape as soon as daylight came in the morning.

Jean's well-meant efforts to make herself agreeable to Ralph's friend were entirely wasted; yet after dinner was announced the young Professor found himself more at ease. For fortunately he had been placed on Mrs.

Colter's left and next him was an empty chair--evidently for some member of the family not at home he thought with a suppressed sigh of relief.

Overhearing Frank Kent ask some question of interest in regard to the mine, Professor Russell forgot his embarra.s.sment sufficiently to add several questions and comments of his own. And it happened to be during one of his own speeches that an unexpected movement near him made him glance toward the empty chair.

"Great Scott! Was this a big wax doll about to take her place next him?"

Yet, though the doll was struggling with the chair and evidently trying to draw it out from under the table, it never occurred to Henry Tilford Russell to render her the slightest a.s.sistance, in spite of the fact that she was smiling at him appealingly out of the very largest and bluest eyes he had ever seen.

The lateness of Frieda Ralston's entrance did not appear to have surprised her family, who were entirely accustomed to it; however, the magnificence of her dinner toilet plainly did. For whatever had inspired Frieda to dress up as she had? It was small wonder that she was late.

Even in the midst of her duties as hostess Ruth Colter's gray eyes widened and it was on the tip of her tongue to scold Frieda for her foolishness. Yet, recovering herself in time and recalling the presence of their guests, she said nothing.

With a faint suggestion of reproach Jack shook her head at her sister, while Jean and Olive openly smiled at each other. So the situation would have pa.s.sed off without any unpleasantness if it had not been for Jim Colter. When would Ruth teach Jim that he was not to tease the Ranch girls before strangers just as if they were tiny children?

With real astonishment and some mock admiration Jim stared at the latest comer, at the same time giving a characteristic chuckle and low whistle.

Then, in spite of the fact that Jack, who was sitting near, gave his foot a warning pressure, he exclaimed:

"What in heaven's name, Baby, does all that finery mean? You aren't going to a ball later on this evening, are you, and forgotten to mention it?"

Then, with everybody at the table staring at her, Frieda felt her lips beginning to tremble and her eyes fill with tears, as at last she slipped into her place. Why should her appearance create so much comment? She had dressed up because she wished to and for no other special reason.

Often in the past year when things at the Lodge had been dull for a long time she had amused herself in trying on her pretty clothes. No one had ever objected before, but now, just because there were strangers, or at least one stranger, present, she had to be made the object of family criticism and ridicule. If only they were alone Frieda felt that she would like to tell Jim and everybody just how hateful they were. For of course there had been no thought in her mind of Ralph's guest when she had put on her blue _crepe de chine_ dress with its low neck and elbow sleeves and floating chiffon draperies. The costume had been a present from her sister, Jack, who always could save more of her income than she or Jean. She had only wished to find out whether it was becoming to her and that was why she had also taken so much time and care in fixing her hair. Certainly she knew that Ralph's guest would be as old as the hills--Ralph had plainly stated that he would be.

Frieda gave a little start, which she promptly repressed so that no one should notice it, when she heard a pleasant voice whispering unexpectedly close to her ear:

"Don't mind their teasing you; I think you look--just jolly."

And in reply Frieda smiled tremulously upon the newcomer.

He was old, just as she had expected--his hair was already beginning to grow thin upon the top of his head. He was slender and delicate looking and of only medium height, yet his eyes were certainly the brownest and almost the kindest that she had ever seen, in spite of the fact that they had a kind of absent, far-away expression even while they seemed to be fastened upon her.

"Thank you," Frieda returned a second later, having by this time regained both her lost dignity and self-possession. But this time the younger Miss Ralston found their latest visitor displaying a curious eccentricity. Now he was plainly laughing at her. Naturally Frieda could not have dreamed that Professor Russell, whom Ruth had finally concluded to introduce to her, considered her a little girl of about fourteen.

Otherwise, not for anything in the world, would he have made the speech which he first addressed to her.

The truth was that this old-young Professor was extremely fond of children and only objected to girls after they had grown up. Then because he was so shy himself he had a keen sympathy for embarra.s.sment in other people. So it was to these two causes that Frieda owed his friendliness.

Nevertheless, as she was entirely unconscious of this fact, Frieda continued to talk to him very calmly and comfortably during the entire meal. He did appear surprised over an occasional remark of hers, but as he hardly ever answered, Frieda guessed that this might be his method of revealing his appreciation of her attentions. Actually the two of them were out on the porch with every one else vanished from sight for the moment before Professor Russell entirely awoke to the fact that, though his companion was still extremely young, she could not exactly be regarded as a baby.

CHAPTER XII

TWO CONVERSATIONS

"JACK, you have not played fair with me; what is it that has happened?"

Frank Kent asked quietly.

It was an hour since dinner time at the Lodge and Frank had so insisted upon Jack's taking a walk with him that without rudeness she had not been able to refuse. It was an enchanting June night, warmer than usual in that part of the western country, and with a moon that shines perhaps nowhere on this earth with exactly the same wide radiance.

Jack and Frank had walked down the tall aisles of cottonwood trees near the house and were now standing a few yards on the farther side of them in a clear and revealing light. At Frank's words the girl flinched as he had known that she would. For just that reason he had chosen them, since nothing could hurt Jacqueline so much or make her come so immediately to her own defence as any suggestion that she had not played fair. Other girls might not suffer so greatly from this accusation; but honesty, candor and a kind of straightforwardness, which some persons are pleased to think as masculine traits, had always been Jack's leading characteristics. Now, however, though her companion waited impatiently for her reproach or her denial, for a moment he heard neither.

"I am so sorry, Frank, that you feel in that way about me," Jack began finally. Then, almost in a whisper: "I have not intended to be unfair to you. I--I had not promised you anything."

Jack was not looking into Frank's face as she spoke, but at the silvery whiteness of the ground beneath her feet.

"But nothing has happened, if you mean that I have become either angry or disappointed in you," she added timidly.

Difficult as the girl had antic.i.p.ated this conversation might be, it was more trying than she had expected.

What could she say? How could she truthfully present the situation to Frank, as it appeared to her, without putting Olive in an impossible position? Because in spite of Olive's denial through the message to Jean at the close of the last Ranch Girls' book, Jacqueline was still firmly convinced that her friend felt so great an affection for Frank Kent that it was influencing her whole life. Did it not explain why she absolutely refused to consider Donald Harmon's proposal of marriage, in spite of Don's devotion and her grandmother's expressed desire? Moreover, even if Olive did not like Donald sufficiently well to consider marrying him, why should she insist that she intended devoting her future to teaching the Indian children?

To Jack Ralston such a career suggested pure martyrdom. Olive might do anything else in the world that she liked, even if her grandmother left her no inheritance. For there was Miss Winthrop, who regarded Olive almost as a daughter and who would do everything possible for her. She might have almost any happiness and yet Olive actually talked as if she meant to do what she had so long said she intended as soon as she was a few years older and the proper arrangements could be made.

Jack bit her lips until they positively hurt. Actually she felt a shiver of repugnance at the idea of going away with Frank to every happiness if her going involved leaving her dearest friend to such a fate. Could she ever really be happy with this thought in the back of her mind?

No, Jack decided once again that she was far stronger than Olive and better able to look after herself and to bear, if need be, both loss and loneliness. Besides, had she not had many joys in the past and Olive for many years so few? Surely if Olive still cared for Frank, as she believed, in a little while there need be no further doubt of it. In that event it must be her duty to tell Frank that she did not love him and would never consent to leave the ranch for his sake. After that Frank would undoubtedly turn at once to Olive, who had always been his friend and upon whose sympathy he could surely count. Olive, too, was so much prettier, her nature so much gentler and sweeter, she would make a far better wife. Frank might be angry with her at first, Jack acknowledged to herself at this moment, but he would be more than grateful in the end.

Jack laid her hand pleadingly on the young man's coat sleeve.

"Frank," she asked more wistfully than she herself realized, "won't you promise not to talk about your feeling for me for a time? Won't you just stay on here with us at the Rainbow Ranch as you used to do and let us have a happy time together? I am worried about such a number of things.

Perhaps the money in Rainbow Mine is going to give out and we may have no further income from it. Then there is this strike of our miners. Jim and I don't say a great deal about it to the others, but we are so afraid the old men may resort to violence when we try to get things to running smoothly again and that Ralph or some one else may be seriously hurt. Don't you see that I just can't think about anything else now?"

"No, Jack dear, I can't honestly see why your having all these worries and annoyances can affect your knowing whether or not you return my love. It is not as though I had never spoken of it--you have had a whole year to decide. But if you wish me to wait longer, of course I shall do as you ask. Only please don't let it be too long."

Then before the girl could reply she and her companion had both started, and instinctively Jack clutched at the young man's arm.

The next moment she gave a relieved laugh.

"I don't see why I should jump in that fashion just because we heard a slight noise behind us," she apologized. "I suppose other people have just the same right that we have to be outdoors enjoying the moonlight."

Jack then turned around, looking back into the grove of cottonwood trees. "Jean, Olive, Frieda," she called lightly, but when no one responded, thinking no more of the incident she moved on a few steps.