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  _HETTY'S HEROISM._

  "But, father, you don't really mean to watch the old year out, do you?It's only a waste of candles, and the boys won't want to get up in themorning."

  "Mebbee so, mother; but New Year's Eve don't come every day; so let'shave it out." And old man Sutton tipped back his chair, after fillinghis pipe, and looked contentedly up at the white ceiling of the "bestroom."

  Johnny, the younger son of the family, whistled gleefully, threw morewood on the blazing pile in the fire-place, and then, resuming hisoft-forbidden occupation of cracking walnuts in the best room, said:

  "Don't the wind howl, though? Just drives the rain. Golly, ain't it nicehere?"

  "You're not to say bad words," broke out his mother, sharply. "Father,why don't you correct the boy? Such a night as this, too, when--"

  "What's that?" interrupted the oldest son, springing from his seat, andshowing a straight, manly form and clear, deep eyes, as he stood by thedoor in a listening attitude.

  "Coyotes, brother Frank; the ghosts don't come round this early, dothey?" laughed the younger.

  "Hush, Johnny! It's some one crying for help--a woman's voice!"

  "Tut, tut! where would a woman come from this time o' night, and not ahouse within miles of us?"

  "A woman's voice, I'll stake my head," insisted Frank, after a moment'ssilence in the room.

  The mother had laid down her glasses. "Wonder if the boy thinks Lolitais coming through the storm to watch the old year out with him?" Shelaughed as at something that gave her much pleasure, though the rest didnot share her merriment.

  They were all three listening at door and window now, and when Frankthrew the one nearest him quickly open, there came a sound through thedin and fury of the rain-storm that was neither the howling of the windnor the yelp of the coyote.

  "Now what do you say?" asked Frank; and he had already passed through aninner apartment, and in a moment stood on the porch again, swinging alantern and peering out into the dark and rain, listening for that cryof distress. It came in a moment--nearer than they had expected it.

  "Help! help! oh, please come and help!"

  "The d--l!" was old man Sutton's exclamation; not that he really thoughtthe slender little figure perched on the back of the tall horse was thepersonage mentioned--it was only a habit he had of apostrophizing.

  The horse had stopped short and was breathing hard, and the prayer forhelp was frantically repeated by the rider. "Come quick, and help thepoor fellow; I've been gone so long from him--oh! _do_ come!"

  "What poor fellow--and where is he?" asked the old man, in bewilderment.

  "The stage-driver--and he's lying near the old Mission, with his legbroken. The horses shied in the storm and overturned the stage, and Iwas the only passenger, and I crept out of it, and the driver couldn'tmove any more, and told me to unhitch the horses and come this way forhelp, and--oh! _do_ come now!" She ended her harangue, delivered withflying breath and little attention to rhetoric or inter-punctuation.

  "And you came those nine miles all alone, gal?" asked the old man.

  "Oh, I think I must have come a hundred miles," she replied, with a wildlook at the faces on the porch and in the open doorway; "and it is socold!" She drew the dripping garments closer about her, while father andson consulted together, with their eyes only, for a brief moment. Thenthe old man said she must be taken in, and they must get the wagonready, and waken Pedro and Martin.

  Without a word Frank gave a lantern to Johnny, lifted the girl from thehorse and carried her into the room, brushing the drenched hair backfrom her face, when he sat her down, as he would have done a child's.But she pleaded excitedly, "Indeed I cannot stay--let me go back, andyou can follow."

  "So you shall go back, my gal," said Mr. Sutton, "as soon as the wagonis ready. See how she's shivering, mother; get her some hot tea, andgive her your fur sack--for she'll go back with us or die."

  "My fur sack?" repeated the old lady, incredulously; "my best sack--outin this rain!"

  "Best sack be ----," he shouted, angrily; "I'll throw it in the fire ina minute!" And the best sack quickly made its appearance, in spite ofthe threat of speedy cremation.

  The tea was brought by Johnny, hastily drank, and then the girl repeatedher wish to move on. Frank's own cloak was thrown over "the best fursack"--not, I fear, so much from a desire to save this garment as fromthe wish to keep the shrinking form in it from shivering so painfully.

  It was New-Year's day--though the light had not yet dawned before thesufferer was comfortably lodged at the Yedral Ranch, and Hetty, as wellas the Sutton family, slept later into the morning than usual. The sunhad risen as serenely cloudless as though no storm had passed throughthe land but yesternight; and Father Sutton, thinking he was the firstone up, was surprised to encounter Hetty with Johnny, her new-foundcavalier. He hailed her in his unceremonious fashion: "I'm glad to seeyou up bright and early, gal--make a good farmer's wife some day. Didyou come down this way to live on a ranch?"

  "No, sir; I came to teach school. Your name is among those of thegentlemen who engaged me."

  "The ----! Are you the new school-marm? Then you're Miss----"

  "Hetty Dunlap is my name."

  He held out both hands. "A happy New-Year to ye, Hetty Dunlap--and happyit'll be for all of us, I'm thinking; for a gal that's got so much pluckas you is sure to know something about teachin' school. Here, Johnny,how d'ye like your teacher?"

  Now, Johnny had drawn back with some slight manifestation of disfavorwhen Hetty's true character came to light. But she laid her hand on hisshoulder in her shy yet frank manner, and said quickly:

  "I had already selected Johnny as a sort of assistant disciplinarian. Iam so little that I shall want some one who is tall and strong to giveme countenance;" which at once restored the harmony between them. Theywent in to breakfast together, during which meal it was decided byFather Sutton that Hetty was to live in his family, though "the Price's"was the place where, until now, the teachers had made their home, beingnearest to the school.

  "But then," said the old man, "if the Rancho Yedral can't afford amustang for such a brave little rider every day of the year, then I'llgive it up;" and he slapped his hat on and left the house.

  "Yes," Frank commented rather timidly, "you are brave--a perfectheroine. And yet you are so very small." She was standing in just thespot where he had brushed the hair out of her face last night, andperhaps his words were an apology.

  "True," she assented, "I am small; not much taller than my sister'soldest girl, and she is only twelve."

  "You have a sister?"

  "Yes, in the city; and she has six children." Her voice was raised alittle, her nut-brown eyes looked into his with an unconscious appealfor sympathy, and her delicate nostrils quivered as in terror--which thebare recollection of the little heathens seemed to inspire her with.

  "And did you live at her house?--have you neither father nor motherliving?"

  "Neither. How happy you must be--you have so kind a father and so good amother--"

  The "good mother" came in just then, shaking her best sack vigorously,and lamenting, in pointed words, the "ruination" of this expensive furrobe--calling a painful blush to Hetty's cheek as well as Frank's. Theyoung man tried vainly to make it appear a pleasant joke. "Indeed,mother, you ought to look upon that piece of fur as a handsomeNew-Year's gift--you have my promise of a new fur sack as soon as I goto the city. And isn't my word good for a fur sack?" he asked,laughingly.

  "Yes," said the good mother. "I know your extravagance well enough; but,to my notion, you can afford such things better after you've marriedLolita, than before."

  Frank bit his lips angrily, and turned away--but not before Hetty hadseen the hot red that flushed his cheek.

  Toward noon there was loud rejoicing on the porch, and Hetty, lookingfrom her window, saw Mrs. Sutton welcoming a tall, dark-eyed girl ofabout twenty, whose companion--her brother, to all appearance--seemedseveral years her senior.

  This girl, L
olita Selden, the daughter of an American father and awealthy Spanish mother, was a fair specimen of the large classrepresented by her in California. Generous and impulsive, as all herSpanish half-sisters are, neither her piecemeal education, nor thefoolish indulgence of the mother, had succeeded in making anything ofher but an impetuous, though really kind-hearted woman. In the brother'sdarker, heavier face, there was less of candor and sympathy, and hisfigure--though he had all the grace and dignity of the Spaniard--waslacking in height and the breadth of shoulder that made Frank Suttonlook a giant beside him.

  It was some time before our heroine was introduced to the pair; not,indeed, till dinner was on the table, though Frank had repeatedly hintedto his mother that Hetty might not feel at liberty to make herappearance among them without being formally invited--to which hereceived the cheering response that "he was always botherin'."

  When they met, it was hard to say whether Hetty was more charmed withLolita's stately presence and simple kindness, or Lolita with Hetty'sheroism. The brother, too, seemed lost in admiration of Hetty's heroicconduct or Hetty's pretty face--a fact which escaped neither Frank norhis mother, for she commented on it days afterward. "What a chance itwould be for a poor girl like this 'ere one, if she could make a ketchof young Selden, and he married her!"

  "What! that black-faced Spaniard?" but Frank's generous heart reproachedhim even while he spoke, and his mother took advantage of his penitenceand charged him with a message to Lolita, that needed to be deliveredthe same day. When, therefore, after school-hours, Frank returnedbringing with him both Hetty and Lolita--the latter was visiting her newfriend at the school-house--the mother was well pleased, and spoke morekindly than she had yet spoken to the new teacher.

  "Old man" Sutton, too, had many a pleasant word for both young girls;and altogether Hetty soon realized that home could be home away from hersister's house and the six plagues it held.

  Spring came into the land, dressing in glossier green the grayish limbsof the white-oak in the valley, opening with balmy breath the blossomsof the buckeye by the stream, and covering with gayest flowers the plainand the hillside; while in some shady nook the laurel stood, shaking itsevergreen leaves in daily wonderment at the dress changes and theyouthful air all nature had put on. The wild rose creeping over theveranda of the Yedral Ranch shed its perfume through the house, and castits bright sheen upon the very roof-tree, a passion-vine, in sombrecontrast, rearing its symbolic blossom cheek to cheek with the rosyflower-face of the gay child of Castile.

  Long since had the stage-driver left the Yedral Ranch, grateful for kindtreatment received, his head and heart full of a firm conviction on twopoints: The first, that there was just one man good enough to be HettyDunlap's husband, and that that man was Frank Sutton: the second, thatthere was only one woman good enough to be Frank's wife, and she HettyDunlap.

  He had resumed his old post, and many a pleasant word and startling bitof news did he call out to Hetty and her friends when they were down bythe "big gate," as he drove by very slowly, so as to enjoy conversationas long as possible. George was a deal pleasanter when Hetty was thereby herself, or at least without Lolita; and once, when, by chance, Hettyand Frank were there alone together, he called down, regardless of thestaring passengers in the coach, "That's the way I like to see things;two's good company, and three's none. Don't see what you want to beluggin' that Spanish gal round with you for, Frank; she ain't none o'your'n nohow, and never will be, nuther."

  Before the flush had died on her face, Hetty found her arm drawnthrough Frank's, and as they slowly bent their steps homeward, the mindof each seemed absorbed in the contemplation of some intricate puzzle,on the solving of which depended their whole future welfare. Then Frankraised his merry, twinkling eyes and charged her with being hopelesslyenamored of George, the stage-driver, defying her to say that she hadnot just then been thinking of him, as he knew by her absent looks.

  "I--I was only looking down that way, and thinking there is no lovelierspot on earth than Yedral Ranch." She stopped abruptly; what she wassaying now to cover her confusion, she had said a few days ago, from thefulness of her heart, to Lolita, strolling along this same road; and theSpanish girl had answered impulsively, "Yes; and you shall always makeyour home here when I--" Then she had stopped, crimson in the face, andHetty had not urged her to finish the sentence.

  But Frank, with quickly altered tone, asked softly, "Do you like it sowell, Hetty--really and truly? And have you not wanted often to go backto the city?"

  "To the city?" she repeated, with a little shiver; "no--no!"

  The call of a partridge from behind the nearest _manzanita_ bush warnedthem that young Johnny was there, and the next moment he appeared beforethem--his mother's ambassador to Hetty. "Would she be kind enough justfor once to help with the cake? His mother had burnt her right hand, andshe could not stir the batter with her left."

  "And could not you have done it 'just for once' as well?" asked Frank,impatiently; at which question Johnny opened his eyes wide.

  "She didn't ask me," he said; and then they all went silently to thehouse.

  To do Mrs. Sutton justice, she was loud in her praises of Hetty'sobliging disposition, and Hetty's proficiency in cake-baking, thatevening at tea; and particularly to Julian Selden, who was there withhis sister, did she untiringly sing Hetty's perfections. This seemed tohave the effect of making the young Spaniard bolder and more desirous ofpushing his suit, for the very next evening they came home from Hetty'sschool _a partie carree_--Lolita, her brother, Hetty and Frank.

  The facts of the case were that, following a suggestion of Frank's,Johnny, on Julian's second attempt to escort Hetty home, had kept closeby her side during the whole ride, much more to Hetty's delight thanJulian's. In consequence, Julian had been wise enough to bring Lolitawith him; and Frank, though chagrined, was better pleased to find themboth at Hetty's school than one alone.

  Through the spring and far into the summer they met almost daily in thisway; and sometimes, though Mother Sutton's invitations to Lolita and herbrother to "come every day--every day," were loud and vociferous, thebrother and sister would return to their own home after a protractedride, leaving Hetty and Frank to find their way back to Yedral Ranchalone. Hetty thought she could see a cloud on Mrs. Sutton's browwhenever this happened; and dear as those rides were to her, she avoidedthem whenever she could. Unhappily (Frank did not consider it so), whileout alone together one day, Hetty's saddle-girth broke, and though shesprang quickly to the ground, Frank's nerves were so unstrung, hedeclared, that he could not at once repair the damage, but had toconvince himself, by slow degrees, that she really was not hurt orfrightened. Consequently, it was later than usual when they reachedhome; and Mother Sutton, darting a quick look to see that the door hadclosed behind Frank, who had explained the cause of delay, mutteredsomething about "cunning minxes, who had neither gratitude nor shame,"and then tramped out of the room, leaving Hetty with cheeks burning andeyes strangely bright under the tears rising in them.

  Next morning she made much ado over a sprained ankle, which was not sopainful as to keep her at home, but just bad enough to cause her to rideslowly to school with Johnny and home again before school-hours werefairly over. I fear that she was a "designing minx," for, if shemanaged, by keeping her room to evade Frank's questioning glance andMother Sutton's hostile looks, she managed no less to escape an honorwhich, according to this good lady's statement, corroborated by Lolita'smore than usual tenderness, Julian Selden had meant to confer upon her.But she could not stay in her room forever; and Father Sutton draggedher out of it one day, challenging her to tell the truth ("and shame thedevil"), by acknowledging that something had hurt her beside thesprained ankle. Had Mrs. Sutton shown no spite openly against "the gal"before, it broke out now, in little sharp speeches against women "tryin'to work on the sympathy of foolish young men. Her boys, she knew,couldn't never be ketched that way by no white-faced--"

  "Will yer be still now!" thundered the old man, taking the pipe fr
ombetween his lips and pointing with it to Hetty, who at this moment wasreally the white-faced thing the old lady had meant to call her.

  "Johnny," said Hetty, next morning, on their way to school, "Ithink--I'll go home when vacation begins, and--"

  "Why, what d'you mean?" asked the boy, startled out of all properrespect.

  "Just what I say;" and she enumerated her reasons for considering it herduty to return to her lonely sister and the six pining children; and itwas a matter of doubt whether Johnny's lips quivered more during therecital, or Hetty's. But when the school-house was reached, Johnny was aman again; and if he did blubber out loud when he told his elderbrother of it, late in the evening, down by the big gate, nobody butFrank heard him, and _his_ lips were rather white when next he spoke.

  "You asked me for that Mexican saddle of mine some time ago, Johnny. Youare welcome to it."

  "I don't want no Mexican saddle," replied Johnny, in a surly tone, andwithout grammar; but looking into his brother's face, he said, "Thankyou, Frank. I'd say you're 'bully,' only Hetty said it wasn't a niceword."

  In the course of the week Father Sutton, in his character as such, andas school director, was made acquainted with Hetty's intention. In bothcharacters he protested at first, but yielded at last. He walked outwith "the gal" one evening, as though to take her over the ranch for thelast time, and then artfully dodged away when Frank--by the merestaccident--came to join them. Left alone with this young man, Hettytrembled, as she had learned to tremble under his mother's scowlinglooks and half-spoken sentences. He spoke quietly, at first, of hergoing away; but her very quietness seemed after a while to set him allon fire.

  "Hetty," he cried, "are you then so anxious to go--so unwilling to stay,even for a day, after the school closes? Is there nothing--is there noone here you regret to leave behind you?"

  Poor little Hetty! How they had praised her for her heroism once. Therewas no praise due her then, as she had protested again and again. Nowshe was the heroine, when she answered, though with averted face andsmothered voice, "Nothing--no one;" adding, quickly, "you have all beenso kind to me that naturally I shall feel homesick for the Yedral Ranch,and shall be so glad to see any of you when you come to the city."

  Frank had heard "the tears in her voice," and though he turned from herabruptly, it was not in anger, as she fancied.

  "Father," he said, a day or two later, "I don't know but I'll take a runover the mountains, now harvesting is over, and there seems nothingparticular for me to do."

  "Please yourself and you'll please me, Frank," was the answer. "Got anymoney? You kin git it when you want it."

  Then there was nothing more said about the journey, and Frank, making nofurther preparations, seemed to have forgotten all about it.

  When Hetty was lifted into the little wagon that took herself and trunkto the big gate, she repeated her hope of sooner or later greeting themembers of the Sutton family in San Francisco.

  "Not soon, I'm afeard, Miss Hetty; me an' father and Johnny never goesto the city, and as for Frank--I reckon he'll want to git married first,and bring Lolita 'long with him."

  Martin, who was driving, probably knew the meaning of the fire in theold man's eye, for he whipped up the horse and drove off, as though"fearing to miss the stage," as he explained at the turn of the road.

  Altogether, George showed neither as much surprise nor pleasure as Hettyhad faintly expected him to evince. When they reached the first town hecame and stood by the open coach window, after the customary halt,drawing on his gloves first, and then pointing out, with greatexactitude, where the old _adobe_ tavern had formerly stood, on theopposite side of the street.

  During this interesting conversation, some tardy passengers came out ofthe hotel, with hasty steps, and mounted to the top of the stage withmuch hurried scrambling. Then George left Hetty's window, mounted histhrone, and drove on.

  We need not say how Hetty's heart sank with the sinking sun; and onlywhen George came out of the station-house where they had taken supper,ready and equipped for the night's drive, did a light rise in her eyes.

  "I thought you stopped at this station," she said, as he again leaned ather window, while the same hasty steps and confused scrambling on thetop of the stage fell, half unconsciously, on her ear.

  "Well--yes. As a general thing, I do. But me and Dick's changed offto-night, so't I can see you into the cars to-morrow morning."

  "How tired you will be," she remonstrated.

  "Well--mebbe so. Howsomever, Miss Hetty, you didn't stop to thinkwhether you'd be tired when you started out to find help for me, lastNew-Year's eve." And Hetty blushed, as she always did, when her heroismwas spoken of.

  George's eyes did look heavy the next morning; but he still kept thelines, lounging up to the coach-window about the time the stage wasready to start, and always pointing out something of interest on theseoccasions. Once, indeed, when she fancied that her ear caught the soundof a familiar footfall on the porch of the tavern they were about toleave, he was so anxious she should see the owl just vanishing into thesquirrel-hole, on the opposite side of the road, that he laid his handon her arm to insure her quick attention, just as she was about to turnher head back in the direction of the porch. Then came the usualclimbing and scrambling overhead, and directly George mounted, too, anddrove on.

  The shrill whistle of the locomotive seemed to cut right through Hetty'sheart; and the loneliness she had never felt away down the country, nowsuddenly took possession of the girl's soul. No one could have been moreattentive than George; the best seat in the cars was picked out for her;the daily papers laid beside her, and then--then she was left alone.George only, of all her down-country friends, had made the unconditionalpromise to visit her in San Francisco. She was thinking of this after hehad left her, and she sat watching the cars filling with passengers forthe city--travellers gathered together here from watering-place andpleasure-resort, from dairy-ranch and cattle-range. Was there anotherbeing among these all as lonely as she? And she turned her face to thewindow, and looked steadily over toward the hills, yellow and parchednow, in the late summer--so fresh and green from the winter's rains whenshe had last seen them. It looked as if her life, too, were in the "sereand yellow;" the heavy, throbbing pain that was in her heart and risingto her throat--would it ever give place again to the bright fancies shehad indulged in when coming this way--oh! how many weeks ago? She triedto count; but counting the weeks brought the events of each in turnbefore her, and she desisted; she must keep a calm face and a clear eye.

  She heard the cry of the fruit-venders outside, and saw their basketsladen with fruits, tempting and delicious, raised to the car-windows,where passengers had signified their wish to purchase. Mechanically, hereyes followed the movements of the young man in front of her. Grapes,with the dew still on them; apples, with one red cheek, and peaches withtwo; plums, larger than either, and far more luscious, were transferredfrom the heavy basket into the lap of the lady beside him--evidently hisnew-made wife--who said, "Thanks, dear," with such a happy, gratefulsmile, that Hetty grew quite envious. She tried to think it was of thefruit; but pending the decision she laid her head on the back of theseat in front of her, and before she thought of what she was doing, thetears were trickling down her cheeks. Then her shoulders began to jerkquite ridiculously, and she was ready to die of shame, when a light handwas laid on them, and her name was spoken.

  "Hetty!" the voice said again; but she did not raise her head, onlyanswering, "Yes," as she would have done in a dream.

  "Hetty!" once more, "see what I have brought you." Apples, and peaches,and plums--all these things were showered into her lap, and when sheraised her head, she looked at them steadily a moment, and then said,with a long breath, "Oh, Frank!" before she turned to where he sat. Asshe stretched out both hands to meet his, the fruit, now forgotten, fellplump, plump, to the floor, and rolled all over the cars; and when thetrain moved slowly away from the depot a little later, Hetty, looking upat the lady in front of her, said to he
rself, that she envied her nolonger--neither the apples nor--. She made a full stop here; perhapsbecause of George's sudden appearance, and the hilarity in which he andFrank indulged.

  "Oh, Miss Hetty!" he laughed; "I couldn't make you see that owl thismorning, could I?"

  "No; but I think I must have been as blind as an owl myself, not to haveseen whom you were hiding," she answered, taking the contagion.

  Again shrieked the locomotive, but not with the "heart-rending" cry of awhile ago; and George, bringing their hands quickly together in hisparting clasp, sprang from the cars and left Frank and Hetty there.

  Loud was the anger of good Mrs. Sutton on discovering that Frank hadaccompanied Hetty to San Francisco. In vain Father Sutton disclaimed allfore-knowledge of the young man's intention, and asserted that Frank hadnever mentioned a tour to the city. Mrs. Sutton said she knew the oldman was in league with him. At the end of a week Frank returned withoutso much as bringing the fur sack as a peace-offering. In course of timehe reconciled his mother to some extent by again carrying messages toLolita, and sometimes bringing Lolita herself in return, just as inHetty's time.

  Autumn came; and still, to the determined schemer's dissatisfaction,Frank had not yet secured the prize she so coveted for him. The seasonbrought with it many cares as well as pleasures to the ranchero. At a_rodeo_, looked upon by the young people generally as a pleasantentertainment, Frank was the admired of many eyes, as his lassounfailingly singled out the animal "in demand," among the dense herdsmoving in a circle. The horse he rode was full of fire, and moreimpetuous, if possible, than his rider; and Lolita, who was among theguests at the Yedral Ranch, had never thought Frank so handsome and sowell worth winning before.

  To Hetty the white walls and the spacious rooms of the grammar-school,to which she had returned, seemed a prison and a wilderness in one. Hersister's house, with the six young Tartars, was more like Bedlam thanever; but Hetty had grown older and firmer, and she declared, to hersister's amazement, that unless she could withdraw herself from the mobunmolested, at her option, she should seek a home with more congenialassociates. The sister opened her eyes wide, as if only now discoveringthat Hetty was full-grown; and she assented silently.

  First, after her return, letters from Frank lighted up her life atintervals. But when the early rains of autumn, after an Indian summerfull of sunny days and glorious memories of vanished springs, turned tothe settled melancholy of "a wet winter," these letters ceased, leavingin Hetty's existence a blank that nothing else could fill. Christmascame, with its vacations and merry-makings, and beside the dull, deeppain in Hetty's heart, there was still the unselfish wish to give otherspleasure, though she herself could never again feel that glad emotion.From morn to night her deft hands flew, sewing, stitching,sketching--busy always, yet never for herself.

  It was very near Christmas now--so near that Hetty, eager to have allthings ready for the joyous eve, had sat down to her work without theusual care for neat appearance. Perhaps it was because her curls were alittle neglected, and her collar was not pinned on with the usualprecision, that her face looked worn this morning; her eyes werelanguid, and the flush on her cheeks could not cover the deficiency offlesh which became painfully visible.

  Thus she sat, stitching, ever stitching. The silent parlor, with itscovered furniture and light carpeting, seemed the right place for ghoststo flit through, and peer, mayhap, with dull, glazed eyes into the fire,as Hetty caught herself just now. But she drove back the ghosts--arethey not always our own memories, woven out of unfulfilled wishes,useless regrets, and profitless remorse?--and hastily resumed her work.The ringing of the door-bell seemed so much the doing of one of theseghosts, that she paid no attention to it, but kept on stitching, quietlystitching. Directly the parlor-door was thrown open, and the Mongolianservitor, looking with calm indifference on the little streams of muddywater oozing at every step from the boots of the new-comer, returned tothe kitchen, heedless, to all appearances, of the scream with whichHetty flew to meet the stranger.

  "George!" she cried, "oh! George!" and she clasped the damp arm of theman, gotten up on the grizzly-bear pattern, as though there could be nopleasure greater than this in all the world.

  Though a man, George was wise enough to know that he was not indebted tohis personal attractions for this affectionate greeting; but taking bothher hands in his, he said, "Yes, Miss Hetty, I've come to tell you allabout it."

  At the fall _rodeo_ on the Yedral Ranch, Frank's horse had fallen,covering its rider with its weighty body. He recovered from a death-likeswoon with wandering mind; and the spine being injured, according tothe doctor's statement, it seemed doubtful that he would ever leave hisbed, except as imbecile or cripple. Reason returning, Frank felt thathis friends' fears of his remaining a cripple were not withoutfoundation, and a hopeless gloom settled on his spirit. Many a time,when George had made "fast time" and spent the half-hour gained atFrank's bed, did Hetty's name rise to his lips; but it was neverpronounced. Only this: looking up out of deep sunken eyes, one day,quite recently, Frank had said to him, "George, I shall get well, andnot be a cripple. If only--" "It's all right," had been George's answer;and he had hurried from the house as though charged with the most urgentcommission.

  After an hour's conversation, Hetty had only one question to ask.Looking up with shy eagerness, she almost said below her breath, "AndLolita?"

  For answer, George took the flushed face between his hands."You've grown mighty thin, Miss Hetty," he simply said. Then hecontinued, with great _nonchalance_, "Lolita got stuck after the newschoolmaster--they've got a man in your place. But come, Miss Hetty, you'peared to me last New-Year's eve like an angel, in my distress; supposeyou do as much now for Frank Sutton. We can get down there on New-Year'seve, and give you lots of time to spend Christmas here first. What d'yesay?"

  No lover could have pleaded more earnestly. All her objections wereoverruled, and when at last she said, almost breathlessly, "Oh, but his_mother_, George!" he answered, with all his honest heart: "It's my firmbelief, Miss Hetty, that you were cut out for a real hero-ine; and ahero-ine you've got to be to the end of the chapter--which I don't saybut the last trial of your hero-ism will be greater than the first."

  And sure enough, on New-Year's eve, came the rumbling of wheels and thetramp of horses' hoofs close up to the veranda of the ranch-house on theYedral. None of the inmates seemed startled, though none had expectedcompany. Without a word Father Sutton sprang to the door--alas! that theold man was swifter of foot now than the young giant of a yearago--caught the lithe figure that sprang from the stage in his arms andset her down, as Frank had done, in the middle of the room. But she wasnot cold, dripping wet now, only blinded by the light one moment, andthe next on her knees by the lounge, where a pale, haggard man laystretched. He half raised himself to catch her in his arms, and for awonder did not sink back with the moan that had become so painful to hisfather's ears. For once Hetty had cast aside all timidity, and shelooked up brightly into Father Sutton's face, while one arm circledFrank's neck and the other hand lay unresistingly in his.

  "Hey!" shouted the old man; "now we know whose gal you are; I used tocall you mine once. Mother, get some supper; I reckon she is wellnighstarved and perished with the cold. Lively, Johnny! bring some morewood; Hetty'll stay for good, and you'll get time enough to hang 'roundthe gal to-morrow."

  And what a bright to-morrow it was! Such a New-Year's day had neverdawned on Yedral Ranch before. Every one seemed to have found atreasure, even to Mrs. Sutton. Together with Hetty's trunk had come alarge, promising-looking box, and when Father Sutton presented this tohis better-half, she almost screamed--

  "Oh, I know! it's my new fur sack!"