At length something happened; and one glorious Saturday morning in October, Polly saddled Blanquita, the white mare which Bell Winship had left in Polly’s care during her European trip, and galloped over to the Nobles’ ranch in a breathless state of excitement.

Blanquita was happy too, for Polly had a light hand on the rein and a light seat in the saddle.  She knew there would be a long rest at the journey’s end, and that, too, under a particularly shady pepper-tree; so both horse and rider were in a golden humor as they loped over the dusty road, the blue Pacific on the one hand, and the brown hills, thirsty for rain, on the other.

Polly tied Blanquita to the pepper-tree, caught her habit in one hand, and ran up the walnut-tree avenue to the Nobles’ house.  There was no one in; but that was nothing unusual, since a house is chiefly useful for sleeping purposes in that lovely climate.  No one on the verandas, no one in the hammocks; after seeking for some little time she came upon Margery and her mother at work in their orange-tree sitting-room, Mrs. Noble with her mending-basket, Margery painting as usual.

The orange-tree sitting-room was merely a platform built under the trees, which in the season of blossoms shed a heavy fragrance in the warm air, and later on hung their branches of golden fruit almost into your very lap.

“Here you are!” cried Polly, plunging through the trees as she caught sight of Margery’s pink dress.  “You have n’t any hats to swing, so please give three rousing cheers!  The house is rented and a lease signed for a year!”

“That is good news, indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Noble, laying down her needle.  “And who is the tenant?”

“Whom do you suppose?  Mrs. Chadwick herself!  She has been getting on very nicely with the housekeeping (part of the credit belongs to me, but no one would ever believe it), and the boarders have been gradually weaned from mamma and accustomed to the new order of things, so they are tolerably content.  Ah Foy also has agreed to stay, and that makes matters still more serene, since he is the best cook in Santa Barbara.  Mrs. Chadwick will pay eighty-five dollars a month.  Dr. George thinks we ought to get more, but mamma is so glad to have somebody whom she knows, and so relieved to feel that there will be no general breaking up of the ‘sweet, sweet home,’ that she is glad to accept the eighty-five dollars; and I am sure that we can live in modest penury on that sum.  Of course Mrs. Chadwick may weary in well-doing; or she may die; or she may even get married,—­though that’s very unlikely, unless one of the boarders can’t pay his board and wants to make it up to her in some way.  Heigho!  I feel like a princess, like a capitalist, like a gilded society lady!” sighed Polly, fanning herself with her hat.

“And now you and your mother will come to us for a week or two, as you promised, won’t you?” asked Mrs. Noble.  “That will give you time to make your preparations comfortably.”