The Girl from Sunset Ranch by AMY BELL MARLOWE (best ereader for manga .TXT) 📖

for Flossie. Flossie's rude enough as it is."

The youngest daughter had gone to school, so she was not present with her saucy tongue to hold up her own end of the argument.

"Think of a girl right from a cattle ranch!" laughed Belle. "Fine! I suppose she knows how to rope steers, and break ponies, and ride bareback like an Indian, and all that. Fine accomplishments for a New York drawing-room, I must say."

"Oh, yes," joined in Hortense. "And she'll say 'I reckon,' and drop her 'g's' and otherwise insult the King's English."

"Ahem! I must warn you girls to be less boisterous," advised their father.

"Why, you sound as though you were almost afraid of this cowgirl, Pa," said Belle, curiously.

"No, no!" protested Mr. Starkweather, hurriedly.

"Pa's so easy," complained Hortense. "If I had my way I wouldn't let her stay the day out."

"But where would she go?" almost whined Mr. Starkweather.

"Back where she came from."

"Perhaps the folks there don't want her," said Belle.

"Of course she's a pauper," observed Hortense.

"Give her some money and send her away, Pa," begged Belle.

"You ought to. She's not fit to associate with Flossie. You know just how Floss picks up every little thing----"

"And she's that man's daughter, too, you know," remarked Belle.

"Ahem!" said their father, weakly.

"It's not decent to have her here."

"Of course, other people will remember what Morrell did. It will make a scandal for us."

"I cannot help it! I cannot help it!" cried Mr. Starkweather, suddenly breaking out and battling against his daughters as he sometimes did when they pressed him too closely. "I cannot send her away."

"Well, she mustn't be encouraged to stay," declared Hortense.

"I should say not," rejoined Belle.

"And getting up at this hour to breakfast," Hortense sniffed.

Helen Morrell wore strong, well-made walking boots. Good shoes were something that she could always buy in Elberon. But usually she walked lightly and springily.

Now she came stamping through the small hall, and on the heels of the last remark, flung back the curtain and strode into the den.

"Hullo, folks!" she cried. "Goodness! don't you get up till noon here in town? I've been clean out to your city park while I waited for you to wash your faces. Uncle Starkweather! how be you?"

She had grabbed the hand of the amazed gentleman and was now pumping it with a vigor that left him breathless.

"And these air two of your gals?" quoth Helen. "I bet I can pick 'em out by name," and she laughed loudly. "This is Belle; ain't it? Put it thar!" and she took the resisting Belle's hand and squeezed it in her own brown one until the older girl winced, muscular as she herself was.

"And this is 'Tense--I know!" added the girl from Sunset Ranch, reaching for the hand of her other cousin.

"No, you don't!" cried Hortense, putting her hands behind her. "Why! you'd crush my hand."

"Ho, ho!" laughed Helen, slapping her hand heartily upon her knee as she sat down. "Ain't you the puny one!"

"I'm no great, rude----"

"Ahem!" exclaimed Mr. Starkweather, recovering from his amazement in time to shut off the snappy remark of Hortense. "We--we are glad to see you, girl----"

"I knew you'd be!" cried Helen, loudly. "I told 'em back on the ranch that you an' the gals would jest about eat me up, you'd be so glad, when ye seen me. Relatives oughter be neighborly."

"Neighborly!" murmured Hortense. "And from Montana!"

"Butcher got another one; ain't ye, Uncle Starkweather?" demanded the metamorphosed Helen, looking about with a broad smile. "Where's the little tad?"

"'Little tad'! Oh, won't Flossie be pleased?" again murmured Hortense.

"My youngest daughter is at school," replied Mr. Starkweather, nervously.

"Shucks! of course," said Helen, nodding. "I forgot they go to school half their lives down east here. Out my way we don't get much chance at schoolin'."

"So I perceive," remarked Hortense, aloud.

"Now I expect you,'Tense," said Helen, wickedly, "have been through all the isms and the ologies there be--eh? You look like you'd been all worn to a frazzle studyin'."

Belle giggled. Hortense bridled.

"I really wish you wouldn't call me out of my name," she said.

"Huh?"

"My name is Hortense," said that young lady, coldly.

"Shucks! So it is. But that's moughty long for a single mouthful."

Belle giggled again. Hortense looked disgusted. Uncle Starkweather was somewhat shocked.

"We--ahem!--hope you will enjoy yourself here while you--er--remain," he began. "Of course, your visit will be more or less brief, I suppose?"

"Jest accordin' to how ye like me and how I like you folks," returned the girl from Sunset Ranch, heartily. "When Big Hen seen me off----"

"Who--who?" demanded Hortense, faintly.

"Big Hen Billings," said Helen, in an explanatory manner. "Hen was dad's--that is he worked with dad on the ranch. When I come away I told Big Hen not to look for me back till I arrove. Didn't know how I'd find you-all, or how I'd like the city. City's all right; only nobody gets up early. And I expect we-all can't tell how we like each other until we get better acquainted."

"Very true--very true," remarked Mr. Starkweather, faintly.

"But, goodness! I'm hungry!" exclaimed Helen. "You folks ain't fed yet; have ye?"

"We have breakfasted," said Belle, scornfully. "I will ring for the butler. You may tell Lawdor what you want--er--Cousin Helen," and she looked at Hortense.

"Sure!" cried Helen. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Ye see, I didn't have any watch and the sun was clouded over this morning. Sort of run over my time limit--eh? Ah!--is this Mr. Lawdor?"

The shaky old butler stood in the doorway.

"It is Lawdor," said Belle, emphatically. "Is there any breakfast left, Lawdor?"

"Yes, Miss Belle. When Gregson told me the young miss was not at the table I kept something hot and hot for her, Miss. Shall I serve it in my room?"

"You may as well," said Belle, carelessly. "And, Cousin Helen!"

"Yep?" chirped the girl from the ranch.

"Of course, while you are here, we could not have you in the room you occupied last night. It--it might be needed. I have already told Olstrom, the housekeeper, to take your bag and other things up to the next floor. Ask one of the maids to show you the room you are to occupy--while you remain."

"That's all right, Belle," returned the Western girl, with great heartiness. "Any old place will do for me. Why! I've slept on the ground more nights than you could shake a stick at," and she tramped off after the tottering butler.

"Well!" gasped Hortense when she was out of hearing, "what do you know about that?"

"Pa, do you intend to let that dowdy little thing stay here?" cried Belle.

"Ahem!" murmured Mr. Starkweather, running a finger around between his collar and his neck, as though to relieve the pressure there.

"Her clothes came out of the ark!" declared Hortense.

"And that hat!"

"And those boots--or is it because she clumps them so? I expect she is more used to riding than to walking."

"And her language!" rejoined Belle.

"Ahem! What--what can we do, girls?" gasped Mr. Starkweather.

"Put her out!" cried Belle, loudly and angrily.

"She is quite too, too impossible, Pa," agreed Hortense.

"With her coarse jokes," said the older sister.

"And her rough way," echoed the other.

"And that ugly dress and hat."

"A pauper relation! Faugh! I didn't know the Starkweathers owned one."

"Seems to me, one queer person in the house is enough," began Hortense.

Her father and sister looked at her sharply.

"Why, Hortense!" exclaimed Belle.

"Ahem!" observed Mr. Starkweather, warningly.

"Well! we don't want that freak in the house," grumbled the younger sister.

"There are--ahem!--some things best left unsaid," observed her father, pompously. "But about this girl from the West----"

"Yes, Pa!" cried his daughters in duet.

"I will see what can be done. Of course, she cannot expect me to support her for long. I will have a serious talk with her."

"When, Pa?" cried the two girls again.

"Er--ahem!--soon," declared the gentleman, and beat a hasty retreat.

"It had better be pretty soon," said Belle, bitterly, to her sister. "For I won't stand that dowdy thing here for long, now I tell you!"

"Good for you, Belle!" rejoined Hortense, warmly. "It's strange if we can't--with Flossie's help--soon make her sick of her visit."

 

CHAPTER XII (I MUST LEARN THE TRUTH)

 

Helen was already very sick of her Uncle Starkweather's home and family. But she was too proud to show the depth of her feeling before the old serving man in whose charge she had been momentarily placed.

Lawdor was plainly pleased to wait upon her. He made fresh coffee in his own percolator; there was a cutlet kept warm upon an electric stove, and he insisted upon frying her a rasher of bacon and some eggs.

Despite all that mentally troubled her, her healthy body needed nourishment and Helen ate with an appetite that pleased the old man immensely.

"If--if you go out early, Miss, don't forget to come here for your coffee," he said. "Or more, if you please. I shall be happy to serve you."

"And I'm happy to have you," returned the girl, heartily.

She could not assume to him the rude tone and manner which she had displayed to her uncle and cousins. That had been the outcome of an impulse which had risen from the unkind expressions she had heard them use about her.

As soon as she could get away, she had ceased being an eavesdropper. But she had heard enough to assure her that her relatives were not glad to see her; that they were rude and unkind, and that they were disturbed by her presence among them.

But there was another thing she had drawn from their ill-advised talk, too. She had heard her father mentioned in no kind way. Hints were thrown out that Prince Morrell's crime--or the crime of which he had been accused--was still remembered in New York.

Back into her soul had come that wave of feeling she experienced after her father's death. He had been so troubled by the smirch upon his name--the cloud that had blighted his young manhood in the great city.

"I'll know the truth," she thought again. "I'll find out who was guilty. They sha'n't drive me away until I have accomplished my object in coming East."

This was the only thought she had while she remained under old Lawdor's eye. She had to bear up, and seem unruffled until the breakfast was disposed of and she could escape upstairs.

She went up the servants' way. She saw the same girl she had noticed in the parlor early in the morning.

"Can you show me my room?" she asked her, timidly.

"Top o' the next flight. Door's open," replied the girl, shortly.

Already the news had gone abroad among the under servants that this was a poor relation. No tips need be expected. The girl flirted her cloth and turned her back upon Helen as the latter started through the ghost walk and up the other stairway.

She easily found the room. It was quite as good as her own room at the ranch, as far as size and furniture went. Helen would have been amply satisfied with it had the room been given to her in a different spirit.

But now she closed her door, locked it carefully, hung her jacket over the knob that she should be sure she was not spied upon, and sat down beside the bed.

She was not a girl who cried often. She had wept sincere tears the evening before when she learned that Aunt Eunice was dead. But