Chapter IV: The Round Robin

"WHAT'S the program for this morning?" asked Uncle Cliff, as the ranch party assembled on the veranda after a very late breakfast.

"I don't know what the others are going to do," said Sarah, "but I'm going to write letters."

The other girls exchanged amused glances: it was evident that Sarah wished to forestall suggestions of another ride. Kitty was beginning to show symptoms of sauciness when Mrs. Clyde interrupted kindly with--"I think Sarah's suggestion quite in order. Every one at home will be looking for letters."

"Uncle Cliff telegraphed," said Blue Bonnet, loath to settle down to so prosaic a pursuit.

"But a telegram isn't very satisfying to mothers and fathers, dear," replied her grandmother. "And think of poor Susy and Ruth."

"I intend to write them, too," remarked Sarah.

"Let's all write them!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet.

"That's the right spirit," said Señora with an approving nod. "A 'round-robin' letter will cheer the poor girls wonderfully."

"You hear the motion, are all in favor?" asked Alec.

"Will you write a 'robin,' too?" bargained Kitty, who loved to torment the youth.

"Sure!" he agreed at once, thus taking the wind out of her sails.

"Aye, aye, then!" they all exclaimed, and the motion was declared carried.

There was a scattering for paper and ink, after which every one settled down for an hour's scribbling, some using the broad rail of the veranda as a table, others repairing to desks in the house. Blue Bonnet doubled up jack-knife fashion on one of the front steps, using her knees for a pad; while Sarah, complaining that she could not think with so many people about her, took herself off to the window-seat in the nursery.

"The idea of wanting to think!" exclaimed Kitty. "I never stop to think when I write letters."

"You don't need to tell that to any one who has ever heard from you," remarked Blue Bonnet. "The one letter I had from you in New York took me an hour to puzzle out,--it began in the middle and ended at the top of the first page, and there were six 'ands' and four 'ifs' in one sentence."

"That's quite an accomplishment--I'll wager you couldn't get in half so many," retorted Kitty. And then for a while there was silence, broken only by the scratching of pens and the query from Blue Bonnet as to whether there were two s's or two p's in "disappoint."

"TO SUSY AND RUTH DOYLE, WOODFORD,
MASSACHUSETTS.
"THE BLUE BONNET RANCH,
"July the fifth.

"YOU POOR DEARS: You'll never know if you live to be a
thousand years old what a fearful disappointment it
was when Doctor Clark told me the awful news. Where
did you get it? Is it very bad? And do you have to
gargle peroxide of hydrogen? Amanda says she just
lived on it when her throat was bad. Are you honestly
as red as lobsters? It's a perfect shame you should
have to be sick--and in vacation, too. There might be
some advantages if it should happen--say at
examination time. Grandmother says it is very unusual
to have scarlet fever in warm weather,--it just seems
as if you must have gone out of your way to get it--or
it went out of its way to get you.

"The ranch party isn't a bit complete without you. I'm
going to take pictures of everything and everybody so
as to show you when we get back. That sounds as if I
meant to go back again next fall, when really it isn't
decided yet. I'm more in love with the ranch than ever
and feel as if I never wanted to leave it again. It's
so fine and big out here. There's so much air to
breathe and such a long way to look, and you can
throw a stone as far as you like without 'breaking a
window or a tradition'--as Alec says. We have our
traditions, too, but they can stand any amount of
stone-throwing--in fact that's part of them.

"It's worth crossing the continent to see Sarah on
horseback, riding across the saddle in a wild Western
way that would shock her reverend father out of a
whole paragraph. Kitty dared her and I must say she
showed pluck--Comanche can go _some_ when he gets
started, and Sarah stayed with him to the finish. But
you can imagine why she wanted to write letters to-day
instead of riding again. You can thank her for the
round robin. There, I've reached the bottom of the
page before I've begun to tell you anything. But the
others will make up for it, I reckon. No more now--I
must save strength for a letter to Aunt Lucinda. Do
hurry and get well and out of quarantine so that you
can write to

"Your devoted
"BLUE BONNET."

"DEAR SUSY AND RUTH: We arrived on Monday evening
after a very pleasant journey. The name of the station
where you get off is Jonah--isn't that odd? We had to
drive twenty miles in a very queer kind of vehicle in
order to reach Blue Bonnet's home, and this letter
will have to go back over the same road in order to
be posted. I think I had better go back to the
beginning and tell you all about our trip from the
time we left Woodford.

"The private car we came in is called The Wanderer and
it is really a pity you could not have shared it with
us. It is much grander than Mrs. Clyde's drawing-room
at home,--the mahogany shone till you could see your
face in it, and wherever there was not mahogany there
was a mirror, and Slivers, the porter, dusted
everything about twenty times a day. If you could see
Slivers I should not have to explain why he is called
by that name. I am sure he is the tallest and slimmest
man I have ever seen. And that is odd, too, for you
always think of them as plump and fat. He is a negro,
you know, and doesn't seem to mind it a bit, but is as
jolly as if he were white and as fat as you think he
ought to be, and sang and played his banjo in the
evenings quite like a civilized person. He waited on
table, too, while the chief--the cook, you
know--prepared our meals in the most cunning little
kitchen you can imagine.

"It was a very interesting trip. Sometimes we would
begin our breakfast in one state and before we had
finished we would be in another, and yet there would
seem to be no difference. I think travelling is a very
interesting way to learn Geography, for you forget to
think of Kansas as yellow and Oklahoma as purple, and
think of them as _real_ places with trees and farms
and other things like Massachusetts. I knew already
that Texas is as big as all the New England states put
together, but I never really _grasped_ it before. I am
learning new things every day, some Spanish, though
not as much as I could wish. Yesterday I learned to
ride astride. That is, nearly learned. I don't feel
entirely at home that way yet and it has tired me
considerably, but I dare say it will come easier after
a while. My horse is named Comanche, and he looks just
that way. There is more white to his eyes than
anything else.

"Benita is Blue Bonnet's old nurse. She does the most
exquisite drawn-work and is going to teach me (it
would be as well for you not to mention this when you
write) the spider-web stitch and the Maltese cross, so
that I can do a waist for Blue Bonnet. She is doing so
much for us all that I want to make some return for
her hospitality. Blue Bonnet, I mean, not Benita.

"I do hope you will soon be better. I felt so mean at
leaving without even saying good-bye. But I had to
think of all my brothers and sisters and the girls--I
couldn't expose them to the fever, you know. I hope
you liked the postals we sent. Amanda and I came very
near being left once when we couldn't find the
post-box at Kansas City,--we had to run a block, while
Alec and Kitty stood on the back platform and laid
bets on the winner. (Amanda won.)

"We are all well and hope you are the same,--I mean I
hope you are better and will soon be well.

"With best love,
"SARAH JANE BLAKE."

"Oh, girls, I am simply speechless and can't find a
word to say when I try to describe our grand trip and
this perfect peach of a place, and the glorious time
we have had and are having ever since we left pokey
old Woodford and arrived at the Blue Bonnet ranch. I
keep pinching myself to see if I'm really me, but it
isn't at all convincing, and I suppose I'll simply go
on treading air and not believe in the reality of a
thing till I come to earth in time to hear the Jolly
Good say--'Miss Kitty, you may take problem number
ninety-four'--and wake up to the monotonous old grind
again--oh, if you could only see this darling old
house and the picturesque Mexicans--rather dirty some
of them (I suppose that's why they are called
greasers) and the perfectly dear way they adore Blue
Bonnet and their deference to her 'amigos'--I tell you
I feel like a princess when they call me 'Señorita'
with a musical accent that makes you downright sick
with envy. Why anybody on earth ever left the West to
go and settle up the East I don't see,--you may think
I mean that the other way about but I don't, for
anybody can see at half a glance that this country is
as old as Methusalem--the live-oaks look as if they'd
been here forever and ever and would stay as much
longer--they're all 'hoary with moss' and all that
sort of thing like that poem of Tennyson's--or maybe
it is Longfellow's--it doesn't matter which in
vacation, thank goodness. I don't like to seem to be
rubbing it in about our good times, for it's just too
hateful that you can't be here, too, and ride like mad
for miles without coming to a fence and wear the
adorable riding-suits Mr. Ashe got for us in New
York--all seven alike and as becoming as anything--and
have the best things to eat, wear, do, and see every
minute of the day.

"This won't go into the envelope with the rest if I
run on any longer so I'll close,--with a fat hard hug
and lots of love to you both,

"KITTY."

"DEAR GIRLS: Don't you ever go and get conditioned at
school; take my solemn warning. That awful thing
hanging over me is going to do its best to spoil my
grand summer in Texas. I intended to do a lot of
studying as soon as we arrived here, so that I might
have a few weeks perfectly free from worry; but
goodness me, how can anybody open a book when there's
something going on every blessed minute of the day?
It's a pity it wasn't Sarah who was conditioned. She
actually likes to study and if it came to a choice
between a horseback ride and doing ten pages of
grammar, she'd jump at the grammar. Sometimes I think
Sarah isn't made like other girls. Not quite normal,
you know.

"Now that I've seen Blue Bonnet at home, I realize
what a hard time she must have had in Woodford, at
first especially. She's treated like a perfect _queen_
here, and doesn't have to mind a soul except
Señora--that's what we call Mrs. Clyde. Fancy having
run the ranch all your life and then at fifteen having
to start in and obey Miss Clyde, and Mr. Hunt, and the
rest of those mighty ones! I think she's a brick to
have done it at all, and I take back every criticism I
ever made of her. She must be terribly rich, but
doesn't put on any airs at all.

"How is little old Woodford getting along without us?
I'm almost ashamed to write Mother and Father, for I
can't say I'm homesick and parents always expect you
to be. Debby wants to finish my page, so no more now
from

"Your loving AMANDA."

"DEAR SUSY AND RUTH: There's only room for me to say
hello, and how are you? I wish I were a grand
descriptive genius like Robert Louis Stevenson so that
I could describe this wonderful Texas. But description
isn't my strong point--you know how I just scraped
through Eng. Comp. so I'll not try any flights.

"It isn't half as _wild_ as we used to imagine it. The
cowboys don't go shooting up towns and hanging
horse-thieves to all the trees the way they do in most
of the Western stories. Even the cattle are tame, but
Blue Bonnet says that is because they are fenced
nowadays, and most of them de-horned. All the cowboys
except two are Mexicans, and they are so picturesque
and--different. Mr. Ashe says Texas is filling up with
negroes but he won't have any on the ranch,--he sticks
to the Mexicans, and I'm mighty glad, for they seem
just to suit the atmosphere. Juanita, who waits on the
table, is a beauty, with the most coquettish airs.
Miguel is in love with her, and we all hope she won't
keep him waiting too long, for if they are really
going to be married, we want a grand wedding while we
are here. Wouldn't that be thrilling?

"I've just room to sign my name,

"Yours, with love,
"DEBBY."

"TO THE ABSENT TWO-SEVENTHS OF THE 'WE-ARE-ITS'--Greeting!
Please don't imagine that I forced my way into this
Round Robin affair. My masculine chirography probably
looks out of place in this epistolary triumph--ahem!--but
you can thank Kitty Clark for it. I don't know whether
or not this is intended as a letter of condolence, but
it surely ought to be,--anybody who has to miss this
summer-session on the Blue Bonnet ranch deserves
flowers and slow music.

"This letter will be postmarked 'Jonah'--but don't be
alarmed; they say it's a harmless one. I'm going to
ride over with the mail. Just a little matter of
twenty miles, a trifle out here! Kitty says she
doesn't see how we can expect any letters to reach a
place with such a name, but I've faith in the
collection of relatives left behind in Woodford.

"Now I advise you both, the next time you go into the
vicinity of anything catching, cross your fingers and
say 'King's Ex.' for you're missing the time of your
young lives. As a place of residence, Texas certainly
has my vote. A fellow can breathe his lungs full here
without robbing the next fellow of oxygen.

"With unbounded sympathy,
"Yours,
"ALEC TRENT."

Blue Bonnet collected the literary installments from each of the different authors and put them in a big envelope.

"This 'round-robin' is as plump as a partridge," she remarked. "I hope Susy and Ruth won't strain their eyes devouring it."

"The Woodford postman in our part of town will have an unusually warm greeting, I fancy," said Mrs. Clyde, gathering up all the other letters and placing them with the round-robin in the roomy mail-bag.

"I think Father had better have a social at the church for the We-are-Seven relatives and ask them to bring our letters. Reading and passing them around would make a very interesting evening's entertainment," said Sarah.

Blue Bonnet paused long enough to shake her. "Don't you dare suggest such a horrible thing to your father, Sarah! My letter wasn't intended for--public consumption."

"Nor mine!" exclaimed Kitty. "Father and mother know what a scatter-brain I am, but it's a family skeleton which they don't care to have aired."

"Is the mail all in?" asked Alec in an official tone.

"All in, postmaster," replied Mrs. Clyde, fastening the bag and handing it to him with a smile. "You're not going alone, are you?"

"No, Shady is going along this trip, Señora," he replied.

"Why don't we all go?" asked Blue Bonnet; "it isn't much of a ride."

Sarah looked up in alarm, but met Mrs. Clyde's reassuring glance. "Not this time, dear," she returned to Blue Bonnet. "So far you have had all play and no work. The piano hasn't been touched since we arrived."

Blue Bonnet said nothing, but into her eyes there sprang a sudden rebellion. Out there by the stables Don and Solomon were frolicking, ready at a moment's notice to dash away at Firefly's heels. Away in front of the house stretched the road and the prairie, calling irresistibly to her restless, roving spirit. And vacation had been so long in coming! If grandmother were going to be like Aunt Lucinda-- Again there flashed into her mind the wish so often voiced in Woodford: that there might be two of her, so that one might stay at home and be taught things while the other went wandering about as she liked. All at once she remembered Alec's suggestion--that she adopt Sarah as her "alter ego." A smile drove the cloud from her eyes. "Can't Sarah do my practising while I do her riding?" she asked coaxingly.

Her grandmother hid a smile as she said: "I was under the impression that my coming to the ranch was to see that Blue Bonnet Ashe did her practising, mending, and had coffee only on Sundays."

Blue Bonnet colored. She had uttered those very words, and nobody should say that an Ashe was not sincere. Straightening up she met the questioning looks of the other girls with a resolute glance. "Grandmother is right, as she always is, girls. I'll go and practise, and you--what will you do?"

"I'm sure all the girls will be glad of a little time to themselves," said the Señora. "Let us all do as we like until dinner-time. I've been longing to sit in the shade of the big magnolia ever since I came. I shall take a book and spend my two hours out there, and any one who wishes may share my bower."

"Then I'll be off," said Alec. "Any commissions for me in Jonah?" He stood like an orderly at attention, with the mail-bag slung over one shoulder and his whole bearing expressive of the importance of his mission. The sun and the wind of the prairie had already tanned his smooth skin to the ruddy hue of health, but Mrs. Clyde, observing him closely, could not fail to note how very slim and frail the erect young figure was.

"Isn't twenty miles a rather long ride on a hot day?" she asked tactfully, fearing to wound the sensitive lad.

"We shall reach Kooch's ranch by noon, and we are to rest there until it is cool again," he replied, flushing a little under her solicitous glance.

"Well, keep an eye on Shady!" said Blue Bonnet, waving him good-bye as she went to do her practising.

Fifteen minutes later each member of the ranch party was busily engaged in doing "just as she liked." Mrs. Clyde, deep in a book, sat under the fragrant magnolia; Kitty reclined on a Navajo blanket near her, lazily watching the gay-plumaged birds that made the tree a rendezvous. From the open windows of the living-room came a conscientious rendering of a "Czerny" exercise, enlivened now and then by a bar or two of a rollicking dance, with which Blue Bonnet sugar-coated her pill. In the kitchen Debby and Amanda were deep in the mysteries of "pinoche" under the tutelage of Lisa and Gertrudis; while Sarah, safe inside her own little sanctum, sat and drew threads rapturously, and later, coached by the delighted Benita, wove them into endless spider-webs.