WAM

In order that Lloyd's invitation to her own house-party might reach her
on her birthday, it had not been mailed until several days after the
others. So it happened that the same morning on which she slipped across
the hall in her kimono, to share her first rapturous delight with Kitty,
Joyce Ware's letter reached the end of its journey.

The postman on the first rural delivery route out of Phoenix jogged
along in his cart toward Ware's Wigwam. He had left the highway and was
following the wheel-tracks which led across the desert to Camelback
Mountain. The horse dropped into a plodding walk as the wheels began
pulling heavily through the sand, and the postman yawned. This stretch
of road through the cactus and sage-brush was the worst part of his
daily trip. He rarely passed anything more interesting than a
jack-rabbit, but this morning he spied something ahead that aroused his
curiosity.

At first it seemed only a flash of something pink beating the air; but,
as he jogged nearer, he saw that the flash of pink was a short-skirted
gingham dress. A high-peaked Mexican hat hid the face of the wearer, but
it needed no second glance to tell him who she was. Every line of the
sturdy little figure, from the uplifted arms brandishing a club to the
dusty shoes planted widely apart to hold her balance, proclaimed that it
was Mary Ware. As the blows fell with relentless energy, the postman
chuckled.

"Must be killing a snake," he thought. "Whatever it is, it will be
flatter than a pancake when she gets through with it."

Somehow he always felt like chuckling when he met Mary Ware. Whatever
she happened to be doing was done with a zeal and a vim that made this
fourteen-year-old girl a never-failing source of amusement to the
easy-going postman. Now as he came within speaking distance, he saw a
surrey drawn up to the side of the road, and recognized the horse as old
Bogus from Lee's ranch.

[Illustration: "IT NEEDED NO SECOND GLANCE TO TELL HIM WHO SHE WAS"]

A thin, tall woman, swathed in a blue veil, sat stiffly on the back
seat, reaching forward to hold the reins in a grasp that showed both
fear and unfamiliarity in the handling of horses. She was a new
boarder at Lee's ranch. Evidently they had been out on some errand for
Mrs. Lee, and were returning from one of the neighboring orange-groves,
for the back of the surrey was filled with oranges and grapefruit.

The postman's glance turned from the surrey to the obje