Brewster.
The note of anxiety in the query was not overlooked by the rancher, but
he answered indifferently--to all appearances:
"Shore thing, wife. Could any one forget such a nice girl in a hurry?"
"Well, Sam, the letter's from her--Anne Stewart is her name."
"Don't tell him what! Let me read it, Maw!" cried Polly.
So the letter was read again and the moment it was concluded Polly and
Mrs. Brewster looked fearfully at Mr. Brewster, for they both expected
violent objections from him.
But the rancher stood boring a hole with the toe of his boot down
through the soft grass sod, while he seemed to study the cobbler's
handiwork. After a few moments of tense silence, he looked up and
laughed heartily.
"Who'd have thought it, Mary? You, young looking enough to pass for a
blushing bride but having a son old enough to think of a sweet-heart.
And little Poll here, trying to bamboozle us to let her go away to
school. Ah, well!"
Polly gazed from father to mother and back again. "What has John got to
do with this letter? Gracious, he isn't thinking of a wife, I hope!"
Her parents laughed at her perplexity, and Mr. Brewster explained
satisfactorily to her question:
"I was thinking of the four pretty girls we'd have at the ranch all
summer, if John comes home to choose one of them."
"Oh, Daddy! Then you'll have them come?" cried Polly, at the same time
jumping at her father to throw her arms about his neck.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29