nd shall soon learn to love you. We
are selfish enough to want your companionship. It isn't pity, at all,
you see."

"I'm mighty glad," added Patsy, "your Uncle Anson ran away from
Leadville. If he hadn't done that we should have had to give you
up; but now we may keep you as long as we wish, for you haven't any
particular engagement to interfere with our plans."

All this was said so frankly and unaffectedly that little Myrtle was
led to abandon her suspicion and grew radiant with delight. Indeed,
she hugged and squeezed the squirming Mumbles until he resented such
strenuous fondling and escaped to Patsy's more moderate embraces.
Myrtle had never yet ridden in an automobile, and the prospect of
a long journey across the country in a big touring car, with
California's roses and sunshine at the end of it, was certainly
alluring enough to intoxicate one far more accustomed to pleasure than
this friendless, impoverished girl.

After the cousins had explained all their plans to Myrtle and assured
her she was to be their cherished guest for a long time--until she was
well and strong again, at the least--they broached the subject of
her outfit. The poor child flushed painfully while admitting the
meagerness of her wardrobe. All her possessions were contained in one
small canvas "hold-all," and she lacked many necessities which her
callous aunt had suggested that Uncle Anson might be induced to buy
for her once she had joined him in Leadville. Uncle John's nieces grew
more and more indignant as they discovered the details of this selfish
woman's crime--for Patsy declared it was nothing less than a crime to
send a helpless child far into the West to search for an unknown uncle
whose whereabouts were only conjectural.

That very afternoon Beth and Patsy began shopping for Myrtle, and
presently all sorts of parcels, big and little, began to arrive for
their new protege. Myrtle was amazed and awed by the splendor of her
new apparel, and could scarcely believe her good fortune. It seemed
like a fairy tale to her, and she imagined herself a Cinderella with
two fairy godmothers who were young and pretty girls possessing the
purse of Fortunatus and the generosity of Glinda the Good. At night,
when she was supposed to be asleep, Myrtle crept from her bed, turned
on the electric light and gloated over her treasures, which she had
almost feared might vanish into thin air and leave her as desolate as
before.

Next morning, as soon