LETTERS FROM AN OREGON RANCH
Agreeable warmth! If ever a woman lived who found agreeable warmth in her first black-and-purple shoulder-shawl, history has failed to mention her.
“What’s this thing?” now came inquiringly from Tom, as he held up a bib-shaped scarlet-felt affair.
“Mercy! I don’t know, but perhaps this note will explain.”
“Yes, here it is. ‘I have been feeling anxious about Thomas, working as he does in the rain. Do please see that he wears the chest-protector I send. One can’t be too careful of one’s health at his time of life.”
“Now, madam, you added that last line!”
“No, sir, here it is in black and white; read for yourself.”
Just then a couple of umbrellas passed the window; the shawl was jerked from my hand and wrapped round the “life-saver,” and both were hurriedly tucked behind a sofa-pillow, as Tom whispered, “Katharine, don’t say a word about these things until we hear how they came out.”
After Bert and Mary had come in and the little confusion of their arrival had subsided, and they had carefully looked over our Christmas exhibit, Bert’s roving eyes fell upon Christine’s gift.
“Hello! where did you get the lumpy-jawed, frog-eyed lady?”
“You are most intolerably rude, Mr. Stanhope, so
97
