erest. He returned her gaze with one faintly quizzical, whereat,
emboldened, she demanded,

"Well, what do you think of us for a jolly little band of usurpers, Mr.
Farrel?"

"Why, I think I'm going to like you all very much if you'll give me half
a chance."

"I'd give you almost anything rather than be kicked out of this house,"
she replied, in her somewhat loud, high-pitched voice. "I love it, and I
think it's almost sinful on your part to have bobbed up so unexpectedly."

"Mother!" Kay cried reproachfully.

"Tut, tut, Kay, dear! When an obnoxious heir is reported dead, he should
have the decency to stay dead, although, now that our particular nuisance
is here, alive and well, I suppose we ought to let bygones be bygones and
be nice to him--provided, of course, he continues to be nice to us. Are
you inclined to declare war, Mr. Farrel?"

"Not until every diplomatic course has been tried and found wanting," he
replied.

Carolina entered, bearing five portions of sliced oranges.

"O Lord, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass
against us," Mrs. Parker cried. "Where is Murray?"

Farrel glanced down at his oranges and grinned.

"I'm afraid I excused Murray," he confessed.

Mrs. Parker burst into shrill laughter.

"John," she demanded of her husband, "what do you think of this young
man?"

"Pick up the marbles, Mr. Farrel," Parker replied, with poorly assumed
good humor. "You win."

"I think this is a jolly adventure," Kay struck in, quick to note the
advantage of her outspoken mother's course. "Here you have been more
than two months, mother, regarding yourself as the mistress of the Rancho
Palomar, retinting rooms, putting in modern plumbing, and cluttering up
the place with a butler and maids, when--presto!--overnight a stranger
walks in and says kindly, 'Welcome to my poor house!' After which, he
appropriates pa's place at the head of the table, rings in his own cook
and waitress, forces his own food on us, and makes us like it. Young
man, I greatly fear we're going to grow fond of you."

"You had planned to spend the summer here, had you not, Mrs. Parker?"

"Yes. John Parker, have you any idea what's going to become of us?"

"We'll go to Santa Barbara and take rooms at a hotel there for the
present," he informed her.

"I loathe hotels," she protested.

"I think I informed you, Mrs. Parker, that you are welcome to my poor
house," Farrel reminded her. "I shall be hap