hard work. So that is
why he was disappointed.

Junior can talk quite well, and even Calvin jabbers. The children are
all well, and Jerrine writes a little every day to you. I have been
preparing a set of indoor outings for invalids. Your telling me your
invalid friends enjoyed the letters suggested the idea. I thought to
write of little outings I take might amuse them, but wanted to write
just as I took the little trips, while the impressions were fresh; that
is why I have not sent them before now. Is it too late? Shall I send
them to you? Now this is really not a letter; it is just a reply. I
must say good-night; it is twelve o'clock, and I am so sleepy.

I do hope you will have a very happy summer, and that you will share
your happiness with me in occasional letters.

With much love,
ELINORE STEWART.

In writing I forgot to say that the Reverend Father thought it a good
plan to get a position as housekeeper for some rancher who would advise
me about land and water rights. By keeping house, he pointed out, I
could have a home and a living and at the same time see what kind of a
homestead I could get.

XXIV

A LITTLE ROMANCE

_October 8, 1913._

MY DEAR FRIEND,--

I have had such a happy little peep into another's romance that I think
I should be cheating you if I didn't tell you. Help in this country is
extremely hard to get; so when I received a letter from one Aurelia
Timmons, saying she wanted a job,--three dollars a week and _not_ to be
called "Relie,"--my joy could hardly be described. I could hardly wait
until morning to start for Bridger Bench, where Aurelia held forth. I
was up before the lark next morning. It is more miles to the Bridger
Bench country than the "gude mon" wants his horses driven in a day; so
permission was only given after I promised to curb my impatience and
stay overnight with Mrs. Louderer. Under ordinary circumstances that
would have been a pleasure, but I knew at least a dozen women who would
any of them seize on to Aurelia and wrest her from me, so it was only
after it seemed I would not get to go at all that I promised.

At length the wagon was greased, some oats put in, a substantial lunch
and the kiddies loaded in, and I started on my way. Perhaps it was the
prospect of getting help that gilded everything with a new beauty. The
great mountains were so majestic, and the day so young that I knew the
night wind was still murmuring among the pines far up o