d.

"Guess you do your best to make it that way."

The girl laughed as she led the way in.

"That surely is a pretty nice talk, my Daddy. Guess I'll take
advantage of it, an' keep you waiting another three minutes while I get
rid of the dust."

Her father nodded.

"Jeff comin' up?" he inquired.

The girl shook her head. For a moment the smiling eyes were hidden
beneath their lids.

"Not for supper. He's gone on to the branding 'pinch.'"

She was gone before her father could reply, and he was left to his own
reflections, which were still further inspired by impatience.

Well enough he knew the arduous nature of the work. Had he not been at
it himself since the first streak of dawn? But he felt that Jeff was
going beyond the bounds of necessity. Even beyond the bounds of reason.

However, he was not given much time to nurse any imaginary grievance.
For Nan reappeared after a surprisingly short interval, and the
transformation she had achieved was not a little startling. Her dusty
riding suit had given place to a pretty house frock of some softly
clinging material which restored to her at once the charm of her
essential femininity. The pretty brown of her eyes, and the wavy
softness of her hair became indescribably charming in such a setting.
Bud regarded her with warm approval, and his spirits rose.

"Jeff's coming right up after he's eaten," she said, as they look their
places at the table. "He's getting the food he needs at the bunkhouse.
He guesses he hasn't time to get supper right."

"Ah."

The announcement gave Bud more pleasure than his monosyllable admitted.
His eyes once more took in the picture Nan made as she sat behind the
steaming coffee urn at the head of the table. And somehow the change
she had made became less startling.

The meal was the customary ranch supper. The table was simply loaded
with cold meats, and sweets, and cakes of varied description. The fare
was homely but plentiful, and, to these simple-living people, it was
all that was required. Bud helped himself liberally, while Nan poured
out the fragrant coffee.

"We ought to be through in a week now," Nan said, passing a heavy china
cup of coffee across to her father. "Jeff figures we're well up on
average in spite of the stock we lost last summer. It's pretty good to
think--after that time. Say, Daddy, we owe Jeff a pretty big thing."

The old man looked up with a smile.

"Guess the owin' ain't all with us,"