That tall，boyish figure beside her，now heartilywelcoming the guests，would scarcely be recognized as belonging to a husband and father.These two were more like children playing at "keeping house"than sedate married people.Mildred Travers observed the couple with evident surprise；but the others，familiar with the love story of Arthur and Louise，were merely glad to find them unchanged and enjoying their former health and good spirits.
"The baby！"
That was naturally the first inquiry，voiced in concert by the late arrivals；and Louise，blushing prettily and with a delightful air of proprietorshipa，laughingly assured them that "Toodlums"was very well.
"This is such a glorious country，"she added as the big car started off with its load，to be followed by a wagon with the baggage，"that every living thing ？ourishes here like the green bay trees—and baby is no exception.Oh，you'll love our quaint old home，Uncle John！And，Patsy，we've got such a ？ock of white chickens！And there's a new baby calf，Beth！And the major shall sleep in the Haunted Room，and—""Haunted？"asked the major，his eyes twinkling.
"I'm sure they're rats，"said the little wife，"but theMexicans claim it's the old misera himself.And the oranges are just in their prime and the roses are simply magni？cent ！"So she rambled on，enthusiastic over her ranch home one moment and the next asking eager questions about New York and her old friends there.Louise had a mother，who was just now living in Paris，much to Arthur Weldon's satisfaction.Even Louise did not miss the worldly—mindedb，self—centered mother with whom she had so little in common，and perhaps Uncle John and his nieces would never have ventured onc thisvisit had Mrs.Merrick been at the ranch.
The California country roads are all "boulevardsd，"although they are nothing more than native earth，rolled smooth and saturated with heavy oil until they resemble asphalte.The automobile was a fast one and it swept through the beautiful country，all fresh and green in spite of the fact that it was December，and fragrant with the scent of roses and carnations，which bloomed on every side，until a twenty—minute run brought them to an avenue of gigantic palms which led from the road up to the ranch house of El Cajon.
Originally El Cajon had been a Spanish grant of several thousand acres，and three generations of Spanish dons had resided there.The last of these Cristovals had erected the present mansion—a splendid，rambling dwelling built aroundan open court where a fountain splashed and tall palms shot their swaying crowns far above the housetop.The South Wing was the old dwelling which the builder had incorporated into the present scheme，but the newer part was the more imposing.
The walls were of great thickness and composed of adobe blocks of huge size.These were not sun—baked，as is usual in adobe dwellings，but had been burned like brick in a furnace constructed for the purpose by the first proprietor，and were therefore much stronger and harder than ordinary brick.Inthis climate there is no dampness clinging to such a structure and the rooms were extraordinarily cool in summer and warm in the chill winter season.Surrounding the house were many magnificent trees of tropical and semi—tropical nature，all of which had now attained their full prime.On the south andeast sides were extensive rose gardens and beds of ？owers in wonderful variety.
It was here that the last Se？or Cristoval had brought his young bride，a lady of Madrid who was reputed to have possessed great beauty；but seclusion in this retired spot，then much isolated，rendered her so unhappy that she became mentally unbalanced and in a fit of depression took her own life.Cristoval，until then a generous and noble man，was completely changed by this catastrophe.During the remainder of his life he was noted for parsimony and greed for money，not unmixed with cruelty.He worked his ignorant Indian and Mexican servants mercilessly，denying them proper foodor wage，and his death was a relief to all.Afterward the big estate was cut up and passed into various hands.Three hundred acres of ？ne orange and olive groves，including the spacious mansion，were ？nally sold to young Arthur Weldon.
"It's an awfully big place，"said Louise，as the partyalighted and stood upon the broad stone veranda，"but it is so quaint and charming that I love every stick and stone of it.""The baby！"shrieked Patsy.
"Where's that blessed baby？"cried Beth.
Then came from the house a dusky maid bearing in her arms a soft，uffy bundle that was instantly pounced upon by the two girls，to Uncle John's horror and dismay.
"Be careful，there！"he called."You'll smother the poor thing."But Louise laughed and regarded the scene delightedly.And little Jane seemed to appreciate the importance of the occasion，for she waved her tiny hands and cooed a welcome to her two new aunties.
