scared?"

"Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all
right. First the squaws--and, poor girl, I made her shake hands
all round--and then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena--"

"Say, PLEASE don't tell me who she is, or where she belongs, or
anything like that," Grant interposed, with some sarcasm. "I
smashed her flat between me and the wall, and I scared the
daylights out of her; and I'm told I should have appeared at my
best. But who she is, or where she belongs--"

"She belongs right here." Phoebe's tone was a challenge, whether
she meant it to be so or not. "This is going to be her home from
now on; and I want you boys to treat her nicer than you've been
doing. She's been here a week almost; and there ain't one of you
that's made friends with her yet, or tried to, even. You've
played jokes on her, and told her things to scare her--and my
grief! I was hoping she'd have a softening influence on you, and
make gentlemen of you. And far as I can make out, just having
her on the place seems to put the Old Harry into every one of
you! It isn't right. It isn't the way I expected my boys would
act toward a stranger--a girl especially. And I did hope Grant
would behave better."

"Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better--but
Grant's EDUCATED." Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his
mother's back.

"I'm not educated up to Christmas angels that look as if they'd