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 on the mountain-sides.  The larks were trying to outdo each other and the robins were so saucy that I could almost have flicked them with the willow I was using as a whip.  The rabbit-bush made golden patches everywhere, while purple asters and great pink thistles lent their charm.  Going in that direction, our way lay between a mountain stream and the foothills.  There are many ranches along the stream, and as we were out so early, we