CHAPTER IV

HEADED EAST

When Helen Morrell made up her mind to do a thing, she usually did it. A
cataclysm of nature was about all that would thwart her determination.

This being yielded to and never thwarted, even by her father, might have
spoiled a girl of different calibre. But there was a foundation of good
common sense to Helen's nature.

"Snuggy won't kick over the traces much," Prince Morrell had been wont to
say.

"Right you are, Boss," had declared Big Hen Billings. "It's usually safe
to give her her head. She'll bring up somewhar."

But when Helen mentioned her eastern trip to the old foreman he came
"purty nigh goin' up in th' air his own se'f!" as he expressed it.

"What d'yer wanter do anythin' like that air for, Snuggy?" he demanded, in
a horrified tone. "Great jumping Jehosaphat! Ain't this yere valley big
enough fo' you?"

"Sometimes I think it's too big," admitted Helen, laughing.

"Well, by jo! you'll fin' city quarters close't 'nough--an' that's no
josh. Huh! Las' time ever I went to Chicago with a train-load of beeves I
went to see Kellup Flemming what useter work here on this very same livin'
Sunset Ranch. You don't remember him. You was too little, Snuggy."

"I've heard you speak of him, Hen," observed the girl.

"Well, thar was Kellup, as smart a young feller as you'd find in a day's
ride, livin' with his wife an' kids in what he called a _flat_. Be-lieve
me! It was some perpendicular to git into, an' no _flat_.

"When we gits inside and inter what he called his parlor, he looks around
like he was proud of it (By jo! I'd be afraid ter shrug my shoulders in
it, 'twas so small) an' says he: 'What d'ye think of the ranch, Hen?'

"'Ranch,' mind yeh! I was plumb insulted. I says: 'It's all right--what
there is of it--only, what's that crack in the wall for, Kellup?'

"'Sufferin' tadpoles!' yells Kellup--jest like that! 'Sufferin' tadpoles!
That ain't no crack in the wall. That's our private hall.'

"Great jumping Jehosaphat!" exclaimed Hen, roaring with laughter. "Yuh
don't wanter git inter no place like that in New York. Can't breathe in
the house."

"I guess Uncle Starkweather lives in a little better place than that,"
said Helen, after laughing with the old foreman. "His house is on Madison
Avenue."

"Don't care where it is; there natcherly won't be no such room in a city
dwelling as there is here at Sunset Ranch."

"I suppose not," admitted the girl.

"Huh! Won't be