s he passed from the table to the oven, he
glanced out. Betty Gordon still stood watching the horse.

"That Bob no come?" inquired Lee Chang, poking his head out of the door
again. Fast developing into a good American, his natural trait of
curiosity gave him the advantage of acquiring information blandly and
with ease.

Betty shaded her eyes with her hand. The Oklahoma sun was pitiless. Far
up the road that ran straight away from the bunk house a faint cloud of
dust was rising.

"He's coming now," said the girl confidently.

Lee Chang grunted and returned to his work, satisfied that whatever Betty
was waiting for would soon be at hand.

"Bake tart 'fore that boy goes away," the Chinaman muttered to himself,
waddling hastily to the oven, opening it, and closing the door again with
a satisfied sniff.

The cloud of dust whirled more madly, rose higher. Out from the center of
it finally emerged a raw-boned white horse that galloped with amazing
awkwardness and incredible speed. Astride him sat a slim, tanned youth
with eyes as blue as Betty Gordon's were dark.

"Got something for you!" he called, waving his arm in the motion of
lasso-throwing. "Catch if you can!"

"Oh, don't!" cried Betty eagerly. "What is it, Bob? Be careful or you'll
break it."

Bob Henderson reined in his mount and slipped to the ground. The white
horse contentedly went to munching dry blades of dusty grass.

"Bob, I do believe you've been silly," said Betty, trying to speak
severely and failing completely because her dimple would deepen
distractingly. "You know I told you not to do it."

"How do you know what I've done?" demanded Bob, placing a square
package in the girl's hands. "Don't scold till you know what you're
scolding about."

Betty, busy with the cord and paper, paused.

"Oh, Bob!" she beamed, her vivid face glowing with a new thought.
"What do you think? I had a letter yesterday from Bobby Littell, and
she's going to boarding school. And, Bob, so am I! Uncle Dick says so.
And, Bob--"

"Yes?" smiled Bob, thinking how the girl's face changed as she talked.
"Go on, Betty."

"Well, Louise is going, too, and they think Libbie will come down
from Vermont. Dear old Libbie--I wonder if she is as incurably
romantic as ever!"

Betty's fingers had worked mechanically while she spoke, and now she had
her parcel undone.

"Why, Bob Henderson!" she gasped, as she drew out a handsome white box
tied with pale blue ribbons and encased i