But Mrs. Peyton was too preoccupied with her news to notice the circumstance, and too nervous in her haste to be tactful.  “Susy, your father has invited that boy, Clarence Brant,—­you know that creature we picked up and assisted on the plains, when you were a mere baby,—­to come down here and make us a visit.”

Her heart seemed to stop beating as she gazed breathlessly at the girl.  But Susy’s face, unchanged except for the alert, questioning eyes, remained fixed for a moment; then a childish smile of wonder opened her small red mouth, expanded it slightly as she said simply:—­

“Lor, mar!  He hasn’t, really!”

Inexpressibly, yet unreasonably reassured, Mrs. Peyton hurriedly recounted her husband’s story of Clarence’s fortune, and was even joyfully surprised into some fairness of statement.

“But you don’t remember him much, do you, dear?  It was so long ago, and—­you are quite a young lady now,” she added eagerly.

The open mouth was still fixed; the wondering smile would have been idiotic in any face less dimpled, rosy, and piquant than Susy’s.  After a slight gasp, as if in still incredulous and partly reminiscent preoccupation, she said without replying:—­

“How funny!  When is he coming?”

“Day after to-morrow,” returned Mrs. Peyton, with a contented smile.

“And Mary Rogers will be here, too.  It will be real fun for her.”

Mrs. Peyton was more than reassured.  Half ashamed of her jealous fears, she drew Susy’s golden head towards her and kissed it.  And the young girl, still reminiscent, with smilingly abstracted toleration, returned the caress.

CHAPTER II.

It was not thought inconsistent with Susy’s capriciousness that she should declare her intention the next morning of driving her pony buggy to Santa Inez to anticipate the stage-coach and fetch Mary Rogers from the station.  Mrs. Peyton, as usual, supported the young lady’s whim and opposed her husband’s objections.

“Because the stage-coach happens to pass our gate, John, it is no reason why Susy shouldn’t drive her friend from Santa Inez if she prefers it.  It’s only seven miles, and you can send Pedro to follow her on horseback to see that she comes to no harm.”

“But that isn’t Pedro’s business,” said Peyton.

“He ought to be proud of the privilege,” returned the lady, with a toss of her head.

Peyton smiled grimly, but yielded; and when the stage-coach drew up the next afternoon at the Santa Inez Hotel, Susy was already waiting in her pony carriage before it.  Although the susceptible driver, expressman, and passengers generally, charmed with this golden-haired vision, would have gladly protracted the meeting of the two young friends, the transfer of Mary Rogers from the coach to the carriage was effected with considerable hauteur and youthful dignity by Susy.  Even Mary