tears of happy women.




Chapter Six


When we flew down the grade into California, everything seemed settled;
we were going to Santa Barbara where Dad was building a little palace
for his Elizabeth as a grand surprise (Blakely's mother was in Santa
Barbara); we would take rooms at the same hotel; I would be presented
to Mrs. Porter, and as soon as the palace on the hill was completed--a
matter of two or three months--Blakely, and Dad, and I would move into
it. Only, first, Blakely and I were going to San Bernardino on our
wedding trip.

Wasn't that sweet of Blakely? When I told him about San Bernardino,
and the livery-stable, and the cottage where Dad and I used to live,
he said he'd rather spend our honeymoon there than any place in the
world. Of course Dad had never sold the cottage, and it was touching
to see how pleased he was with our plan.

"You'll find everything in first-class condition," he said; "I go
there often myself. I built a little house in one corner of the
garden for the caretakers. You should see that gold-of-Ophir rose,
Elizabeth; it has grown beyond belief."

When we reached Oakland--where our car had to be switched off and
attached to a coast line, train--we found we had four hours to kill,