Your second card just reached me and I am plumb glad because, although
I answered your other, I was wishing I could write you, for I have had
the most charming adventure.

It is the custom here for as many women as care to to go in a party
over into Utah to Ashland (which is over a hundred miles away) after
fruit. They usually go in September, and it takes a week to make the
trip. They take wagons and camp out and of course have a good time,
but, the greater part of the way, there isn't even the semblance of a
road and it is merely a semblance anywhere. They came over to invite me
to join them. I was of two minds--I wanted to go, but it seemed a
little risky and a big chance for discomfort, since we would have to
cross the Uinta Mountains, and a snowstorm likely any time. But I
didn't like to refuse outright, so we left it to Mr. Stewart. His
"Ye're nae gang" sounded powerful final, so the ladies departed in awed
silence and I assumed a martyr-like air and acted like a very much
abused woman, although he did only what I wanted him to do. At last, in
sheer desperation he told me the "bairn canna stand the treep," and
that was why he was so determined. I knew why, of course, but I
continued to look abused lest he gets it into his head that he can boss
me. After he had been reduced to the proper plane of humility and had
explained and begged my pardon and had told me to consult only my own
pleasure about going and coming and using his horses, only not to
"expoose" the bairn, why, I forgave him and we were friends once more.

Next day all the men left for the roundup, to be gone a week. I knew I
never could stand myself a whole week. In a little while the ladies
came past on their way to Ashland. They were all laughing and were so
happy that I really began to wish I was one of the number, but they