ing end of robe he
saw the girl's face. "Great guns, she's asleep--poor kid!"

The end of a far from perfect day had come for Polly Street, and even an
uncomfortable seat with a hard back and the joltings of a rough road had
failed to keep her awake. She was asleep, sitting up, her head drooping,
her body relaxed. In a few seconds she would be leaning comfortably on the
broad shoulder next her. Without interrupting the team's even trot, Scott
leaned down, fished another blanket from under the seat and arranged it on
the back of the seat between them just in time to receive Polly's sleepy
head, so that she rested half on the blanket, and half on his own steady
bulk for the rest of the trip.

"Poor youngster, she has had a day of it," the man said softly, as he
arranged the blanket carefully around her. "And, by gum, I'll bet she
hasn't had a mouthful to eat since noon! Well, women have endurance, I'll
say they have. Built like Angora kittens and with the constitutions of
beef critters. Go on, Romeo--I don't want her fainting with hunger on my
hands, she's mad enough at me now."

CHAPTER V

POLLY ARRIVES

It was midnight when the buckboard stopped in front of the company house
where Mrs. Van Zandt and Henry Hard assisted the drowsy Polly out of the
wagon, while Scott painstakingly performed the introductions.

"Nothing to eat since noon!" gasped Mrs. Van Zandt, in horror. "What on
earth was old lady Morgan thinking of? Mr. Hard, if you'll throw some more
wood into the stove, I'll put on the percolator and run down to the
dining-room for some sandwiches." She ran off in one direction, while
Scott drove the team in another, leaving Hard to do the honors.

"It's a shame to have things happen this way," he said. "A thousand times
I've heard Bob talk about having you come down here, and now that you've
come, he's flying in another direction."

"It's my own fault," admitted Polly, honestly. "We are all so sudden in
our family--make up our minds and hardly wait to write or telegraph. I
might have known that Bob would be doing something just as queer as I was.
How comfortably you have this place fixed! Am I turning you out of it?"

"Oh, we're tramps, Scott and I. We thought it would be pleasanter for you
to be here with Mrs. Van Zandt, so we moved ourselves out. We rather like
changing about." He built up the fire and adjusted the percolator, while
Polly divested herself of her hat and coat and sat down in a comf