"Where could this creole daughter have sprung from? She looks as if she might have stepped out of the Alhambra into this family of blonde Saxons," said Clifford mentally, again contrasting Mora and her parents; and while he noted the auburn hair, just tinged with gray, of Mr. Estill, and the blue eyes of that courtly old gentleman, the contrast with the creole daughter became so apparent that Clifford must have betrayed his surprise, for he was soon aware that Mrs. Estill was regarding him with an uneasy expression which only served to increase his perplexity. "There is a skeleton in the domestic closet at Estill's ranch," thought our young friend; "but what can the mystery be?"
His speculations were cut short, however, by Mr. Estill saying that all the cow-boys were away with Hugh, shipping a "bunch of steers,"--omitting the fact that the modest "bunch" consisted of two long train-loads of sleek, fat beeves; and that the duties of hostler devolved upon himself in their absence.
The young men thereupon arose and left the room with their host, who, after the manner of Western people, believed in the maxim, "Love me, love my dog," which finds expression in the care lavished upon the horses of a welcome guest. This spirit often leads to a foundered nag, however; but it would be a very ungrateful man, indeed, who would grumble at such an evidence of esteem.
As they left the room to care for Clifford's team, Mora invited Maud and Grace up to her boudoir, which, she said, was so seldom visited that the spiders were more at home there than herself.
"You know about how much 'elegant leisure' falls to the lot of farmers and ranch people," she added.
"Yes, indeed," replied Maud, ruefully; "what with baking, scouring, and dairy-work, we have not much time for frivolous dissipation."
"Oh, what a lovely room!" screamed Grace in delight. "If I had such a sweet boudoir I'd steal an hour at least every day to play the heroine, even if the bread burned and the dishes went unwashed in consequence," she added, rapturously.
"When up here I often dream that I am a grand lady," said Mora, gaily; "but when I catch a glimpse in the mirror of a frumpy, frouzy creature with a towel over her head, then I awake to the sad reality that I am only the slave of circumstances."