"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what _is_ the matter?"
"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "_did_ you see it--_did you see it_? A
terrible thing! A terrible thing!"
"But _what_?" asked the girl wonderingly, "what could have frightened
you so, _here_?"
Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was quite incoherent in her
explanation. Hope looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant problem
which baffled her for the time. Louisa had entered the room and stood
quietly to one side, looking in much surprise from one to the other. For
a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's sobs ceased.
The German girl touched Hope gently upon the shoulder.
"I tink it vas King Solomon," she said.
"Why, that was just it," said Hope. "You must have seen King Solomon,
Clarice. It was only King Solomon; don't be afraid. I thought we had the
hole well plugged up, but he must have made another one."
"You forget," interrupted Louisa, laughing softly.
"Oh, that's so!" exclaimed Hope. "We took the soap out and used it this
morning because we didn't have any other."
"And who's King Solomon, and what's that to do with soap?" demanded
Clarice, raising herself upon her elbow to the edge of the bed with a
faint show of interest.
"King Solomon," explained Hope soberly, "is a friend who comes to visit
us occasionally, and generally packs off what happens to be in sight. We
named him King Solomon--not because of his solemn demeanor, but for
reason of his taking ways, and propensity toward feminine apparel."
"What are you talking about, Hope? I do believe this terrible place has
gone to your head! What makes all the noise in that other room?"
Mrs. Van Rensselaer seemed extremely nervous.
"That's the men coming in to their supper," replied Hope. "I think you
must have been nervous before you saw the rat. I'm sorry I wasn't here
when you came, Clarice!"
"And so that horrible thing I saw was a rat!"
"Yes, just a common everyday wood-rat, for obvious reasons sometimes
called a pack-rat. But how did you happen to come up here, Clarice?"
"If I had known how far it was, and what a dreadful place I should find,
I am afraid my great desire to see you couldn't have induced me to
attempt it. How _can_ you stay here? I wish you'd go home, Hope!"
"Is that what you came to tell me?" asked the girl quietly. "If so, you
might just as well get on your horse and go back. I wrote you not to
come. You might have taken my advice--it would have been a heap better.
You're not cut out for this sort of place. I don't know what in the
world I'm going to do with you to-night! I'll send you back to-morrow,
that's one thing sure. One of us will have to sleep on the floor, or
else we'll be obliged to sleep three in a bed."
"Oh, I'll make me a bed on the floor," offered Louisa quickly.
"You won't do anything of the kind--the idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Van
Rensselaer, aghast. "Supposing that thing--that _rat_ should come!"
"We'll put the soap back in the hole again," replied Hope. "And King
Solomon will have to keep out. Before Louisa came I used to let him come
in just for company's sake, but the poor fellow is a hopeless case.
Clarice, I wish you hadn't come!"
"I wish so, too, if that will help you any," replied Mrs. Van
Rensselaer, lifting her pretty face dejectedly from her hands and
looking about the room in a woe-begone manner. "I'm awfully tired, Hope,
and hungry, but I couldn't eat _here_ if I starved to death! Is that
room in there _always_ so grimy and dirty? and what makes that terrible
_odor_ about the place?"
"I think you'd better go back to the ranch to-night," suggested Hope.
Clarice moaned in deep discouragement: "Oh, if you knew how tired I am!
But I can't stand it _here_--_I can't do it_! Let me get out in the
fresh air, away from the odor of those pigs and chickens and _rats_, and
sit down on the side of a mountain--anywhere, so that I can breathe
again!" After a moment's pause she suddenly exclaimed: "Hope, there's
something biting me! What in the world is it? I tell you there's an
insect on me!"
"Fleas," said Hope briefly. "The place is full of them. They don't bite
me, and they don't bother Louisa much either. Poor Clarice, what trouble
you have got yourself into! I can't send you back to-night, that's one
sure thing, you're too tired." She pondered a moment, deeply perplexed,
then all at once a solution came to her. Her eyes brightened and she
laughed.
"I have it!" she cried. "I'll send one of the boys after Mr.
Livingston's buggy and drive you over to Sydney's. They've got an extra
tent and a stack of blankets. William will get you a fine supper, and
you can be as snug as a bug in a rug."
"Hope, you're the dearest girl that ever lived!" cried Clarice. "I just
dote on camping out in a nice clean tent!" But Hope had hurried away to
find the twins before the sentence was finished. When she returned, a
few minutes later, Clarice exclaimed:
"But you don't intend to send me over there _alone_, do you? You girls
will go and stay with me? Come, you must! I'll not think of going alone.
We'll have a regular camping-out party and I'll chaperon you."
"Old Father Jim and Sydney are chaperons enough," said the girl. "But
we'll go along, since you happen to be our guest."
This decided upon, she made Mrs. Van Rensselaer lie down upon the bed,
bathed her pretty, tired face with cool water, and commanded her to
rest until the twins returned with the conveyance.
Louisa clapped her hands in joy at the happy prospect of camping in a
tent. She declared in her pretty broken English that it had been her one
great desire ever since she had been in the country. Then she became
sober again. Had not her Fritz spent months at a time in one of those
small, white-walled tents?
Hope viewed the project with complete indifference. It mattered little
to her where she spent the night, so that she got her allotted hours of
good, sound sleep. At first she was greatly perplexed as to how she was
going to make Clarice comfortable, but now that the matter had adjusted
itself so agreeably she became at once in the lightest of spirits, the
effects of which were quickly felt by both Mrs. Van Rensselaer and
little Louisa.
By the time the roll of wheels was heard, announcing the arrival of
Edward Livingston's conveyance, Clarice was fairly rested, and in a
much more amiable mood than previously.
"The only thing that's the matter with me now is that I'm hungry," she
said.
"We'll soon fix that, too," replied Hope brightly. "The boys are back
with Mr. Livingston's team and it won't take us long to drive over to
camp. Get on your things, Clarice." She threw her own jacket over her
arm and, picking up her hat, hurriedly left the room. "I'll be back in a
moment for you," she said from the door. "Keep her company, Louisa, and
don't let King Solomon in!"
At the entrance of the house she met the soft-voiced twin just coming in
search of her.
"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he said disgustedly. "Thought
it wasn't safe fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!"
She looked out and saw Livingston standing beside his team in the road.
He was waiting for her. When she approached, his fine eyes brightened,
but hers were gloomy--indifferent.
"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his hand to her. "You did not
think I would miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I haven't
pleased you, but this time I thought to please myself."
"I was in such a predicament," she cried, ignoring his hand, but
forgetting her momentary displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, and no
place to put her. Then I thought of Sydney's, and that new tent, so
we're all going over there. I sent for your buggy, because Mrs. Van
Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, is all tired out--but I didn't mean
to put _you_ to so much trouble."
"Is it a _trouble_ to see you?" he asked. "If it is, I want a great deal
of just that kind of trouble."
"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. "If you will drive her over
there, Louisa and I can go horseback."
He assented in few words, happy to do her bidding.
She started toward the house, then turned back absent-mindedly, as
though she had forgotten something that she was striving to recall.
Finally she gave a little short laugh, and held out her hand. "You are
very kind," she said, looking at him squarely.
He did not reply, but held the proffered hand, drinking in the language
of her eyes. She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it from his
warm clasp, then flashing him one of her brilliant smiles turned once
more and went quickly back to the house.
"You will ride over with Mr. Livingston, Clarice," she announced. "He
wouldn't trust the twins with his team."
"And who's _Mr. Livingston_, Hope," inquired Mrs. Van Rensselaer,
adjusting her veil carefully before the small mirror. "I didn't suppose
you had a _Mr._ anybody up here in this terrible country! Why the
prefix?"
"He's a white man," replied the girl, pulling down her hat to hide the
flush that crept into her face. "An Englishman, Edward Livingston."
"An Englishman," mused Clarice, pulling on her gloves. "But what makes
you _Mister_ him, Hope? _Livingston_--wonder if he's any relation to
Lord Livingston? _Edward_ Livingston, did you say?"
"Oh, such a _nice_ man!" exclaimed Louisa, clasping her hands in
rapture. "He is my goot, kind friend."
"And Hope's too, isn't he?" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, at which remark
Hope advised her to hurry up.
"But my dear, I _am_ hurrying just as fast as I can," she exclaimed. "I
assure you I am as anxious to get away from here as you are to have me.
I don't see how you've ever stood it, Hope! The attraction must be very
strong. Come, own up, is it this _Mister_ Livingston? Why, I believe you
are blushing. You're so black, though, I can't be certain. But it's a
good name--Livingston. Come on; I'm ready to see this _Mister Edward
Livingston_!"
The three passed out of the room and through the large living room
beyond, on out of doors. The men had eaten their supper and gone out to
the stables, where they congregated in numerous groups--quiet groups,
that any other time would have seemed suspicious to Hope.
Mrs. Van Rensselaer was led safely past the pigs and dogs without
accident, but at the corner of the house she drew back, filled with
surprise, and forgetful of all danger.
"Hope, I do believe that _is_ Lord Livingston," she whispered. "I knew
he was out in this country somewhere. Yes, I'm sure it is he. His wife
lives in New York now," she rattled on; "but I don't know her except by
sight. She goes in kind of a swift set, anyway, but he belongs to one of
the best families in England. Isn't it surprising to run across him like
this? I'll go up to him and say--why, how do you do, Lord----"
"Come on," said Hope, interrupting and taking her by the arm. "Lord or
no lord, you'll never get any supper if you don't hurry up!" Her face
had gone from red to white. She took Clarice by the arm and led her up
to the buggy. "This is Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Mr. Livingston," she said
quickly, before that lady could speak, then turned abruptly about and
went to the stable for the saddle-horses.
Livingston helped Mrs. Van Rensselaer into the buggy, while Louisa ran
after Hope, quickly overtaking her.
"She says he hass a vife. I don't belief her!" she exclaimed
indignantly, linking her arm through Hope's. "Don't you belief her
eider!"
"I must believe it, little Louisa, because it is true!" said Hope. "But
if it were _not_ true, if it were _not_ true, I think I should be mad
with happiness at this moment!"