was silent for a few minutes and then she began. "My most exciting time was last fall when we were going home from here. We took the early boat, you remember, Aunt Ada, and the sea was very rough. We were about half way to the city when a tremendous wave rushed toward us and we were all thrown down on deck. I went banging against the rail, but Uncle Dick caught me, though he said if the rail hadn't been strong we all might have been washed off into the sea. It was two or three minutes before we could get to our feet and I was awfully scared; so was everybody."

"It was not rough at all when we came down here from the city," remarked Mary.

"It is usually very smooth," said Miss Ada, "but the time of which Molly speaks it was unusually rough and we all had reason to be terrified. Now your tale, Polly."

Polly sat looking into the fire for a moment before she said, "I think the time I was most scared was once when Uncle Dick and I were riding home on our ponies. It was most dark and the sun was dropping behind the mountains; it always seems lonely and solemn then anyhow. I wasn't riding my own pony that day for he had hurt his foot, so I had Buster, Ted's broncho: I'd often been on him before and I wasn't a bit afraid to ride him. Well, we were coming along pretty fast because it was getting so late and we were a good distance from home. Of course there were no houses nearer than ours, and that was three miles away. I was a little ahead when a jack-rabbit jumped up right before Buster's nose and he lit out and ran for all he was worth. I held on tight, but he kept running and pretty soon I saw we were making toward a bunch of cattle. Buster used to be a cattle pony and I thought: suppose that bunch should stampede and I should get into the thick of them. I was always more scared of a stampede than anything else. Well, the cattle did begin to run but I jerked at Buster's bridle and managed to work him little by little away from the cattle, but he never stopped running till we got home and then I just tumbled off on the ground, somehow, and sat there crying till Uncle Dick came up. He had no idea that Buster was doing anything I didn't want him to, but just thought I was going fast for a joke and because I wanted to get home."

"I think that was tremendously exciting," commented Molly, "and I think you were very brave, for it lasted so long. It is easy to be brave for a minute, but not for so long."

"Fancy living in such a wild country," remarked Mary.

"Oh, but it is beautiful," said Polly enthusiastically. "The mountains are bigger than anything you can imagine, and it is so fine and free. Oh, you don't know till you see it."

"I am quite sure I should like England better," declared Mary positively. "London is much finer than New York, which is very ugly, I think, and our dear little villages are so pretty. I never saw such queer tumble-down places as you have here in the country. I think our hedge-rows and lanes are much prettier."

"Never mind, now," said Miss Ada gently. "Tell us about your most exciting time."

"Really, I never did anything very exciting, you know," returned Mary. "Once I was in Kensington Gardens and got lost from nurse. I was frightfully scared for a little while. However, I sat quite still and she came up after a bit."

Molly gave Polly a little nudge; it seemed a very tame experience after Polly's wild ride.

"I am afraid Mary is something of a little prig," said Miss Ada to her brother when the little girls had gone to bed.

"Polly will broaden her views if any one can," aid Uncle Dick. "Don't let her flock by herself too much, Ada; it isn't good for her, and she needs a little Americanizing."

"I don't think Polly will be harmed by Mary's gentleness. She has such a charming voice and Polly might well subdue hers."

"They'll do one another good," repeated Uncle Dick.

CHAPTER IV

The Rhinestone Pin

In spite of Miss Ada's efforts to bring the three little cousins nearer together, it was some time before they actually did become real friends: Mary, seeing that anything she could say against America aroused a fierce contradiction from Polly, slyly teased her whenever she could, and Polly, who was loyal to the backbone, grew more and more indignant, often on the verge of tears, rushing to her aunt or uncle with a tale of Mary's abuse of her beloved country.

"And her father is an American, too. I don't see how she can do it," she complained one morning. "She is half American herself, and I told her so."

"What did she say?" asked Aunt Ada.

"She said she was born in England and so was her mother, so of course she was English, and besides, although her father was once American, that now he lives in England so he must be English, too. She makes fun of everything, or at least she sniffs at us and our ways all the time. Now, is that polite, Aunt Ada? I live in the west, but I'd be ashamed to make fun of the east."

"I think Mary will learn better after awhile, when she has been here longer."

"I wish I could show her what my mother wrote to me in the letter that I had from her this morning," said Polly. Then, with a sudden thought. "Aunt Ada, won't you read it aloud to all three of us?"

"Bring it to me," said Miss Ada, "and I will see."

Polly ran off and came back with the letter which her aunt read over carefully, nodding approvingly from time to time. "Where are the others?" she asked presently.

"Out on the porch," Polly told her.

Miss Ada picked up her knitting bag and Polly followed her to a sheltered corner where Molly and Mary were playing with a store of pebbles they had picked up on the shore.

"Polly has had such a nice letter from her mother," said Miss Ada. "Don't you all want to hear it? She gives such interesting accounts of things out there, and Mary will get quite an idea of ranch life from it." She sat down and read the pages which were full of a pleasant recital of every-day doings, interesting to those unaccustomed to the great west, and more interesting to Polly. At the last came these words:

"There is one thing I want my little girl to remember: the essence of good breeding comes from a good heart. It is both unkind and ill-bred to give offense in a house where hospitality is shown you, to find fault or criticise what is set before you, to draw comparisons between the locality where you live and that which you are visiting so that the latter will appear in a bad light. Persons who have not been accustomed to the society of well-bred people think it is very smart to find fault with things which are different from those with which they have been familiar. Now, I don't want my Polly to be that way, and I must ask her not to be so rude as to abuse hospitality by belittling the customs of a house or the town, state or locality in which it is. I want my Polly to be considered a true lady, even if she is from the wild and woolly west."

Mary looked a little startled while this reading was going on and when Polly stole a glance at her she became very red in the face and turned away her head, but to Polly's great satisfaction, from that time she was less ready to criticise things American. In consequence warm-hearted little Polly tried to be magnanimous and because Aunt Ada asked her to help her to show a generous hospitality, she overlooked Mary's praise of England, and would answer her remarks by saying: "Well, we have some nice things, too." Her clear loud voice, moreover, she tried to tone down when Aunt Ada told her to notice the difference between her way of speaking and Mary's. As to Mary the benefits of her visit were only beginning to tell. Later they showed more plainly, but it was not till there was much heart-burning and many tears were shed.

It all began in this way: Molly rushed in one morning, her face all aglow with the importance of the news she had to tell. "Oh, Aunt Ada," she cried, "they are going to