bullyvard is at, along the lake there. He turns her north on the
bullyvard, without a skip or a bobble, and she runs smooth as grease. I
seen Bonnie Bell was certainly a good judge of a car, like she was of a
horse or anything else.

"Daughter," says Old Man Wright to her after a time--and he didn't usual
call her that--"you're a wonder to your dad tonight! Where did you get
it? Where did you learn it?"

She looks up at him quick from her muff, plumb serious, and just put out
her hand on his, in its white glove.

We moved right along up the avenue, along a little crooked street or so,
round a corner and over the bridge; and then we come out where the
lights was in a long row again, and we could hear the roar of the lake
right close to the road.

"Where are you taking us, kid?" says I after a while, seeing that her pa
wasn't going to say nothing, nohow.

She only smiled.

"Wait, Curly; you'll see the new ranch house before so very long."

By and by we was right at the lower end of that long row of big houses
that cost so much money, where the best people live--Millionaire Row,
they called it then.

I knew where we was. After a while we come right to the place where
Bonnie Bell and me once had set on our horses and looked out at a new
house that wasn't finished, but was just beginning. It was done now--all
complete, from top to bottom, right where the foundations had been last
spring! I could see where the walks was laid out and some trees had been
planted that fall--big ones, as though they had always growed there.
Here and there was statues, women mostly and looking cold that night.

On behind you could see the line of the low buildings, like the outlying
barns of the home ranch on the Yellow Bull; but this house stood there
just inside, where the lake come in rolling and roaring, and fronted
right on this avenue, where our best people lived. It was stone, three
stories or more, maybe, with a place for buckboards to drive under and a
stone porch over the front door, and a walk and steps. And it was all
lit up from top to bottom; all the windows was bright.

We wasn't cold or wet or tired, us three, but we wasn't feeling
good--not one of us. Now when we stopped there for some reason and
looked at all them red lights shining, I sort of felt a wish that I
could see a light shining in some home ranch once more, like I had so
often out on the Yellow Bull. I set there looking at that place, all lit
up for somebody