e knew me once a little
when I was in Sunbridge visiting relatives, years ago, and he knew I had
become a ranchman in Texas. He begged so hard that I should keep his
secret that I've always kept it. Besides, there was nothing to keep.
Nobody ever asked me, or suspected he was here."

"Why, how strange!" breathed Cordelia, with shining eyes. "And only
think how I've asked everybody but you--and now I've found one of them
right here!"

"Yes--though we mustn't be too sure, of course. We'll tell him; but
maybe he won't want to go back, even now. I reckon, however, that when
he hears of the money, Reddy won't mind his real name being known."

"Reddy!" cried Cordelia.

"Oh!--I didn't tell you, did I?" smiled Mr. Hartley. "Yes, Reddy is
Lester Goodwin."

"Why, Mr. Hartley! And I never thought of such a thing as asking _him_!
I only looked for the cowboys who were called 'John' or 'James' or
'Lester'--and there weren't many of those. And so it's Reddy--why, I
just can't believe it's true!"

"I reckon Reddy can't, either," laughed Mr. Hartley. "And now we'll let
you go back to your dancing, my dear. I've already encountered at least
four pairs of glowering eyes unpleasantly pointed in my direction. I'll
go and find Reddy--or rather, Mr. Lester Goodwin," he finished
impressively, as he rose to his feet.

CHAPTER XV

THE ALAMO

Two days after the party at the ranch house, Mr. Hartley made a
wonderful announcement at the dinner table.

"What do you say, young ladies, to a visit to San Antonio?" he began.

"Father, could we? Do you mean we can?" cried Genevieve.

"Yes, dear, that's just what I mean. It so happens I've got business
there, so I'm going to take you home 'round by that way. We'll have
maybe a couple of days there, and we'll see something of the surrounding
country, besides. You know Texas is quite a state--and you've seen
mighty little of it, as yet."

"Oh, girls, we'll see the Alamo!" cried Genevieve. "Did you realize
that?"

"Will we, truly?" chorused several rapturous voices.

"Yes."

"And what do you know about the Alamo, young ladies?" smiled Mr.
Hartley.

"We know everything," answered Tilly, cheerfully. "Mr. Jones's
daughter, you know, was our Latin teacher, and she had the History
class, too. Well, we couldn't even _think_ Bunker Hill but what she'd
pipe up about the Alamo. Now I think Bunker Hill is pretty good!"

"Oh, but we want to see the Alamo, just the same," interposed Ber