issed her lurking suspicion that Sarah was just "being polite" and
accepted the exchange.

It was a happy Sarah who tucked herself away in a little bed all to
herself, in a dainty room destined to be her very own for two long
months. Four times happy was the quartet who shared the nursery. It
was a long time before they subsided. There were so many things to be
observed and discussed in that delightful place. Uncle Joe Terry had
had a hand in its arrangement, and now that worthy man would have felt
well repaid if he could have heard the gales of merriment over his
masterpieces of interior decoration.

In her childhood Blue Bonnet had been blessed--or afflicted--with more
dolls than ever fell to the lot of child before. Now the
long-discarded nursery-folk formed a frieze around the entire room,
the poor darlings being, like Blue-beard's wives, suspended by their
hair. Every nationality and every degree of mutilation was there
represented, and the effect was funny beyond description. On the
broad mantel-shelf over the stone fireplace reposed drums,
merry-go-rounds, trumpets and toy horses; while on the hearth was a
tiny kitchen range bearing a complete assortment of pots and pans of a
most diminutive size. In every available nook of the room stood
doll-carriages, rocking-horses, go-carts and fire-engines, each
showing the scars of Blue Bonnet's stormy childhood.

"I wish," cried Kitty, "that we weren't any of us a day over seven!"

While the girls were still making merry over her childhood treasures
Blue Bonnet slipped away. She had not had a word alone with Uncle
Cliff for days, and had exchanged only a hurried greeting with Uncle
Joe at the station. And there were such heaps of things to talk over!

She found them both on the veranda, enjoying the evening breeze that
came laden with sweet scents from off the prairie. Blue Bonnet clapped
her hands over Uncle Joe's eyes in her old madcap fashion.

"It's Blue Bon--er--Elizabeth, I mean," he guessed promptly.

"Wrong!" cried Blue Bonnet sternly. "Elizabeth Ashe was left behind in
Massachusetts, and only Blue Bonnet has come back to the ranch."

"Thank goodness for that!" breathed Uncle Joe devoutly. "Elizabeth
came mighty hard. It didn't fit, somehow. I reckon you're glad to get
_home_, Blue Bonnet?"

"Glad? Why, there isn't a word in the whole English dictionary that
means just what I feel, Uncle Joe," replied Blue Bonnet, perching on
the arm of his chair. "I lov