"Oh, Tom is mighty ambitious, you know, and seems as if he liked this section better than the East. However, it is Tom we-all can thank for that new railroad. When you-all come home next year, you-all will be riding over your own tracks." Mr. Brewster chuckled.
"Is Tom going to join that crew of engineers that John and he were with last year?" now asked Eleanor.
"No, indeed! Tom and John will be right here with us this summer. We-all need their help in working out the problems of the mine and Rainbow Cliffs," responded Sam Brewster.
"I don't suppose we'll see a bit of John as long as Anne and her mother remain in Denver, visiting their old friends," pouted Polly, jealously.
Her father glanced slyly at her, and smiled. He felt sorry for his little girl who had always felt that her brother John was her own personal property. Now that someone claimed first love and attention from him it was mighty hard for her, as well as for Mrs. Brewster.
"Ah should wonder at John if he failed in gallantry to his sweetheart," was all Sam Brewster said aloud.
"Oh! Everyone makes me tired! Anyone'd think Anne Stewart was a saint. She's only a girl the same as Nolla, or me. And no one is found going mad over either one of _us_!" cried Polly, pettishly.
Eleanor laughed. "Give us a few years and then see!"
Polly curled her lip impatiently. "A few years from now and I'll be in Europe with dear old Fabian, studying art. I won't want attention from anyone, then."
"Seems to me," ventured Mr. Brewster, gently, "my little girl is hankering for homage or a beau--which is it?"
Polly stared aghast. "Neither one! How dare you say so."
"But I was only thinking of _John_. He'll have Anne for a wife all his life long--after next year. But he won't have _me_ after I finish school."
In spite of the tearful tone, Mr. Brewster had to laugh. "Don't waste your time on John, Polly girl. Let me make up for him and be your devoted attendant. Ah'll always be at your beck and call!"
"Oh, Dad! That reminds me!" exclaimed Polly, turning square around to face her father, and forgetting her recent misery over John. "_How_ did you ever manage about that rose valentine you sent me?"
Sam Brewster let the reins dangle recklessly as he, in turn, stared at his daughter. "What valentine?"