les into its
sleeve, one in each. Uncle Cliff's coat went on at the other end; both
coats were buttoned underneath, and there before the eyes of the
interested group, was a stretcher ready for the patient.

Kitty, still weak and dazed, but with the color beginning to return to
her milk-white cheeks, was borne gently to the house by Uncle Cliff
and the doctor, attended by a body-guard of Alec and Mrs. Clyde, and
followed by the other dripping and subdued We are Sevens.

There was a rather bad quarter of an hour for Kitty while the doctor
bathed and dressed her wound. After much debating and grave
consideration in his most profound manner, young Abbott had decided
that the cut was not deep or wide enough to warrant his sewing it up.
Whereat there was great rejoicing in the household,--not, however,
shared by the medical man. A bit of stitching would have given him
practice and no end of professional enjoyment. However, Kitty felt
that she had had quite her share of attention and was glad to be left
alone in the nursery tucked in between cool sheets, to sleep off the
ache in her broken head.

When she awoke it was dusk in the room. Beside her bed stood somebody,
bearing a tray.

"Are you awake?" asked a sepulchral voice.

"Yes," she whispered faintly.

The tray was hastily placed on a stand, a second pillow slipped deftly
under Kitty's head, and then before she had recognized her servitor a
pair of soft lips were laid on hers and a penitent voice whispered:
"I'm so sorry, Kitty,--and ashamed!"

"It wasn't your fault, Blue Bonnet," said Kitty, returning the kiss
warmly. "Served me right for being such a peacock."

"Then all's serene on the Potomac?" Blue Bonnet questioned.

And with a reassuring, though somewhat shaky smile, Kitty returned:

"All's serene!"

CHAPTER VIII

CONSEQUENCES

BLUE BONNET came in from an early morning romp with Don and Solomon
looking even more rosy and debonair than usual. It was surprising how
much easier it was to rise early at the ranch than it had been at
Woodford. She liked to steal quietly out of the nursery and go
adventuring before breakfast; she felt then like Blue Bonnet the
fourteen-year-old, full of the joy of life, untroubled by fears of any
sort or desires for the great unknown. She and Don in those days had
had many a ramble before the dew was off the grass. Hat-less and
short-skirted she had climbed fences, brushed through mesquite and
buffalo grass; hunte