Trent asked him to put aside Miss Jessica's dinner, till she came
in, and to be sure that it was also kept nice and warm.

"All right, lady. I'll do that good enough. Don't mind what I has to
do for 'Lady Jess';" and immediately seized the plate, which Aunt
Sally had already filled, to place it in the warming oven.

Then the mother went out, and among the adobe buildings, which formed
the "boys" quarters and the business part of the ranch, calling
gently, as she went, in the brooding sort of note which had long been
a signal between her and her child. But no Jessica responded; and, to
her fancy, it seemed that the whole place was strangely silent.

"After all, that is not to be wondered at. The men are done with
dinner, and gone about their work. The boys are asleep, and only
Jessica would be anywhere near. What can keep her, I wonder?" and with
this thought the lady again uttered the tender call which would summon
her daughter, if she were within hearing.

Then she returned to the house and tried to accept Aunt Sally's theory
that, likely some of them 'boys' is in trouble about his job, and
wants his 'captain' to go oversee. 'Mazin' strange, Gabriella, what a
influence that child has over 'em. "They 'pear to think, the whole lot
of 'em, that she can straighten out all the kinks that get into brains
or business."

"She is quick to understand," said the mother, proudly.

"Course. Nothin' strange, is it, seeing who her folks was? Best go
take a nap, honey."

"Oh, no! Thank you for suggesting it, but I'm too wakeful."

"Well, then, I'll fetch them kerns and citron right out here on the
kitchen porch. The sun's off it now, and there ain't a prettier spot
on earth where to prepare Christmas fixin's. I'll fetch the raisins
and stone 'em myself. That Pasky boy'd eat more'n half of 'em, if I
left 'em to him. Then we can visit right sociable; and I can free my
mind. The truth is, Gabriella Trent, that I ought to be harnessin'
Rosetty an' Balaam this minute, and be startin' for 'Boston.'"

"Oh, Aunt Sally!" protested the ranch mistress, in real distress.

"There, dearie, hush! Don't worry. I said 'I ought,' I didn't say I
was goin'. Seem's if I couldn't just tear myself away from Sobrante.
If Sarah Ma'sh, she that was a Harrison, and married Methuel, hasn't
got gumption enough to bile her own plum puddin', I 'most feel as if
she'd ought to go without. Though I don't know as that's real
Christian in me."

"Dear Mrs.