it was a pretty little grove in which the happy hexagons met to study and to talk texas. nor were they the only ones that met there. though harold day, alma lane's cousin, was not to be of the texas party, the girls invited him to meet with them, as he was texas-born, and was one of genevieve's first friends in sunbridge. on the outskirts of the magic circle, sundry smaller brothers and sisters and cousins of the members hung adoringly. even grown men and women came sometimes, and stood apart, looking on with what the happy hexagons chose to think were admiring, awestruck eyes—which was not a little flattering, though quite natural and proper, decided the club. for, of course, not every one could go to texas, to be sure!

at the beginning, at least, of each meeting, affairs were conducted with the seriousness due to so important a subject. in impressive silence the club seated itself in a circle; and solemnly cordelia wilson, the treasurer, opened the meeting, being (according to tilly) a "perfect image of her uncle in the pulpit."

"fellow members, once more we find ourselves gathered together for the purpose of the study of texas," she would begin invariably. and then perhaps: "we will listen to miss bertha brown, please. miss brown, what new thing—i mean, what new features have you discovered about texas?"

if miss brown had something to say—and of course she did have something (she would have been disgraced, otherwise)—she said it. then each in turn was asked, after which the discussion was open to all.

they were lively meetings. no wonder small brothers and sisters and cousins hung entranced on every word. no wonder, too, that at last, one day, quite carried away with the enthusiasm of the moment, they made so bold as to have something to say on their own account. it happened like this:

"texas is the largest state in the union," announced bertha brown, who had been called on first. "it has an area about one twelfth as large as that of the whole united states. if all the population of the country were placed there, the state would not be as thickly settled as the eastern shore of massachusetts is. six different flags have waved over it since its discovery two hundred years ago: france, spain, mexico, republic of texas, confederate states of america, and the star spangled banner."

"pooh! i said most of that two days ago," muttered tilly, not under breath.

"well, i can't help it," pouted bertha; "there isn't very much new left to say, tilly mack, and you know it. besides, i didn't have a minute's time this morning to look up a single thing."

"order—order in the court," rapped cordelia, sharply.

"oh, but it doesn't matter a bit if we do say the same things," protested alma lane, quickly. (alma was always trying to make peace between combatants.) "i'm sure we shall remember it all the better if we do repeat it."

"of course we shall," agreed cordelia, promptly. "now, alma—i mean miss lane—" (this title-giving was brand-new, having been introduced as a special mark of dignity fitting to the occasion; and it was not easy to remember!)—"perhaps you will tell us what you have found out."

"well, the climate is healthful," began alma, hopefully. "texas is less subject to malarial diseases than any of the other states on the gulf of mexico. september is the most rainy month; december the least. the mean annual temperature near the mouth of the rio grande is 72°; while along the red river the mean annual temperature is only 80°. in the northwestern part of the state the mean annual—"

"alma, please," begged tilly, in mock horror, raising both her hands, "please don't give us any more of those mean annual temperatures. i'm sure if they can be any meaner than the temperature right here to-day is," she sighed, as she fell to fanning herself vigorously, "i don't want to know what it is!"

"tilly!" gasped cordelia, in shocked disapproval. "what would genevieve say!"

tilly shrugged her shoulders.

"say? she wouldn't say anything—she couldn't," declared tilly, unexpectedly, "because she'd be laughing at us so for digging into texas like this and unearthing all its poor little secrets!"

"but, tilly, i think we ought to study it," reproved cordelia, majestically, above the laugh that followed tilly's speech. "elsie—i mean, miss martin,—what did you find out to-day?"

elsie wrinkled her nose in a laughing grimace at tilly, then began to speak in an exaggeratedly solemn tone of voice.

"i find texas is so large, and contains so great a variety of soil, and climate, that any product of the united states can be grown within its limits. it is a leader on cotton. corn, wheat, rice, peanuts, sugar cane and potatoes are also grown, besides tobacco."

"and watermelons, elsie," cut in bertha brown. "i found in a paper that just last year texas grew 140,000,000 watermelons."

"i was coming to the watermelons," observed elsie, with dignity.

"wish i were—i dote on watermelons!" pouted tilly in an audible aside that brought a chuckle of appreciation from harold day.

cordelia gave her a reproachful look. elsie went on, her chin a little higher.

"texas is the greatest producer of honey in the united states. as for the cattle—prior to 1775 there were vast ranches all over southwestern texas, and herds of hundreds of wild cattle were gathered and driven to new orleans. i found some figures that told the number of animals in 1892, or about then. i'll give them. they're old now, of course, but they'll do to show what a lot of animals there were there then."

elsie paused to take breath, but for only a moment.

"there were 7,500,000 head of cattle, 5,000,000 sheep, and 1,210,000 horses, besides more than 2,321,000 hogs."

there was a sudden giggle from tilly—an explosive giggle that brought every amazed eye upon her.

"well, really, tilly," disapproved elsie, aggrievedly, "i'm sure i don't see what there was so very funny in that!"

"there wasn't," choked tilly; "only i was thinking, what an awful noise it would be if all those 2,321,000 hogs got under the gate at once."

"tilly!" scolded cordelia; but she laughed.

she could not help it. they all laughed. even the little boys and girls on the outskirts giggled shrilly, and stole the opportunity to draw nearer to the magic circle. almost at once, however, cordelia regained her dignity.

"miss mack, we'll hear from you, please—seriously, i mean. you haven't told us yet what you've found."

tilly flushed a little.

"i didn't find anything."

"why, tilly mack!" cried a chorus of condemning voices.

"well, i didn't," defended tilly. "in the first place i've told everything i can think of: trees, fruits, history, and everything; and this morning i just had to go to mrs. miller's for a fitting."

"oh, tilly, another new dress?" demanded elsie martin, her voice a pathetic wail of wistfulness.

"but there are still so many things," argued cordelia, her grave eyes fixed on tilly, "so many things to learn that—" she was interrupted by an eager little voice from the outskirts.

"i've got something, please, cordelia. mayn't i tell it? it's a brand-newest thing. nobody's said it once!"

cordelia turned to confront her ten-year-old cousin, edith.

"why, edith!"

"and i have, too," piped up edith's brother, fred, with shrill earnestness. (fred was eight.) "and mine's new, too."

cordelia frowned thoughtfully.

"but, children, you don't belong to the club. only members can talk, you know."

"pooh! let's hear it, cordelia," shrugged tilly. "i'm sure if it's new, we need it—of all the old chestnuts we've heard to-day!"

"well," agreed cordelia, "what is it, edith? you spoke first."

"it's gypsies," announced the small girl, triumphantly.

"gypsies!" chorused the happy hexagons in open unbelief.

"yes. there's lots of 'em there—more than 'most anywhere else in the world."

the girls looked at each other with puzzled eyes.

"why, i never heard genevieve say anything about gypsies," ventured tilly.

"well, they're there, anyhow," maintained edith; "i read it."

"you read it! where?" demanded cordelia.

"in father's big sac'l'pedia." edith's voice sounded grieved, but triumphant. "i was up in auntie's room, and i saw it. it was open on her bed, and i read it. it said there was coal and iron and silver, and lots and lots of gypsies."

there was a breathless hush, followed suddenly by a shrieking laugh from tilly.

"oh, girls, girls!" she gasped. "that blessed child means 'gypsum.' i saw that in papa's encyclopedia just the other day."

"but what is gypsum?" demanded alma lane.

"mercy! don't ask me," shuddered tilly. "i looked it up in the dictionary, but it only said it was a whole lot of worse names. all i could make out was that it had crystals, and was used for dressing for soils, and for plaster of paris. gypsies! oh, edith, edith, what a circus you are!" she chuckled, going into another gale of laughter.

it was fred's injured tones that filled the first pause in the general hubbub that followed tilly's explanation.

"you haven't heard mine, yet," he challenged. "mine's right!"

"well?" questioned cordelia, wiping her eyes. (even cordelia had laughed till she cried.) "what is yours, fred?"

"it's boats. there hasn't one of you said a single thing about the boats you were going to ride in."

"boats!" cried the girls in a second chorus of unbelief.

"oh, you needn't try to talk me out of that," bristled the boy. "i know what i'm talking about. old mr. hodges told me himself. he's been in 'em. he said that years and years ago, when he was a little boy like me, he and his father and mother went 'way across the state of texas in a prairie schooner; and i asked father that night what a schooner was, and he said it was a boat. well, he did!" maintained fred, a little angrily, as a shout of laughter rose from the girls.

"and so 'tis a boat—some kinds of schooners," harold day soothed the boy quickly, rising to his feet, and putting a friendly arm about the small heaving shoulders. "come on, son, let's you and i go over to the house. i've got a dandy picture of a prairie schooner over there, and we'll hunt it up and see just what it looks like." and with a ceremonious "good day, ladies!" and an elaborate flourish of his hat toward the happy hexagons, harold drew the boy more closely into the circle of his arm and turned away.

it was the signal for a general breaking up of the club meeting. cordelia, only, looked a little anxiously after the two boys, as she complained:

"harold never tells a thing that he knows about texas, and he must know a lot of things, even if he did leave there when he was a tiny little baby!"

"don't you fret, cordy," retorted tilly. (cordelia did not like to be called "cordy," and tilly knew it.) "harold day will talk texas all right after genevieve gets back. besides, you couldn't expect a boy to join in with a girls' club like us, just as if he were another girl—specially as he isn't going to texas, anyway."

"well, all he ever does is just to sit and look bored—except when tilly gets in some of her digs," chuckled bertha.

"glad i'm good for something, if nothing but to stir up harold, then," laughed tilly, as she turned away to answer elsie martin's anxious: "tilly, what color is the new dress? is it red?"

it was the next day that the letter came from genevieve. cordelia brought it to the club meeting that afternoon; and so full of importance and excitement was she that for once she quite forgot to open the meeting with her usual ceremony.

"girls, girls, just listen to this!" she began breathlessly.

the happy hexagons opened wide their eyes. never before had they seen the usually placid cordelia like this.

"why, cordelia, you're almost girlish!" observed tilly, cheerfully.

cordelia did not seem even to hear this gibe.

"it's a letter from genevieve," she panted, as she hurriedly spread open the sheet of note paper in her hand.

"dear cordelia, and the whole club," read cordelia, excitedly. "i came up yesterday from new jersey with the hardings for two days in new york. i have been to see the animals at the zoo all the afternoon, and i'm going to see the hippodrome this evening. that sounds like another animal but it isn't one, they say. it's a place all lights and music and crowds, and with a stage 'most as big as texas itself, with scores of real horses and cowboys riding all over it.

"i am having a perfectly beautiful time, but i just can't wait to see my own beloved home on the big prairie, and have you all there with me. i sha'n't see it quite so soon though, for father has been delayed about some of his business, and he can't come for me quite so soon as he expected. he says we sha'n't get away from sunbridge until the fifth; but he's engaged five sections in a sleeper leaving boston at eight p. m. so we'll go then sure.

"mrs. harding is calling me. good-by till i see you. we're coming the third. with heaps of love to everybody, your own

"genevieve hartley."

"well, i like that," bridled tilly. "just think—not go until the fifth!"

"oh, but just think of going at all," comforted alma lane, hurriedly; "and in sleepers, too! sleepers are loads of fun. i rode in one fifty miles, once—it wasn't in the night, though."

"i rode in one at night!" tilly's voice rose dominant, triumphant.

"my stars!"

"when?"

"where?"

"what was it like?"

"was it fun?"

"why didn't you tell us?"

tilly laughed in keen enjoyment of the commotion she had created.

"don't you wish you knew?" she teased. "just you wait and see!"

"yes, but, tilly, do they lay you down on a little narrow shelf, really?" worried cordelia.

"i sha'n't take off a single thing, anyhow," announced bertha, with decision, "not even my shoes. i'm just sure there'll be an accident!"

tilly laughed merrily.

"a fine traveler you'll make, bertha," she scoffed. "sleepers are made to sleep in, young lady—not to lie awake and worry in, for fear there'll be an accident and you'll lose your shoes. as for you, cordy, and the shelf you're fretting over—there are shelves, in a way; but you lay yourself down on them, my child. nobody else does it for you."

"thank you," returned cordelia, a little stiffly. cordelia did not like to be called "my child"—specially by tilly, who was not quite sixteen, and who was the youngest member of the club.

"but, tilly, are—are sleepers nice, daytimes?" asked edith wilson, who, as usual, was hovering near. "i should think they'd be lovely for nights—but i wouldn't like to have to lie down all day!"

tilly laughed so hard at this that edith grew red of face indeed before alma patched matters up and made peace.

it was the trip to texas that was the all-absorbing topic of discussion that day; and it was the trip to texas that cordelia wilson was thinking of as she walked slowly home that night after leaving the girls at the corner.

"i wonder—" she began just under her breath; then stopped short. an old man, known as "uncle bill hodges," stood directly in her path.

"miss cordelia, i—i want to speak to ye, just a minute," he stammered.

"yes, sir." cordelia smiled politely.

the old man threw a suspicious glance over his shoulder, then came a step nearer.

"i ain't tellin' this everywhere, miss cordelia, and i don't want you to say nothin'. you're goin' to texas, they tell me."

"yes, mr. hodges, i am." cordelia tried to make her voice sound properly humble, but pride would vibrate through it.

"well, i—" the man hesitated, looked around again suspiciously, then blurted out a storm of words with the rush of desperation. "i—years ago, miss cordelia, i let a man in boston have a lot of money. he said 'twas goin' into an oil well out in texas, and that when it came back there'd be a lot more with it a-comin' to me. so i let him have it. i liked texas, anyhow—i'd been there as a boy."

"yes," nodded cordelia, smiling as she remembered the prairie schooner that was fred's "boat."

"well, for a while i did get money—dividends, he called 'em. then it all stopped off short. they shut the man up in prison, and closed the office. and there's all my money! they do be sayin', too, that there ain't no such place as this oil well there—that is, not the way he said it was—so big and fine and promisin'. well, now, of course i can't go to see, miss cordelia—an old man like me, all the way to texas. but you are goin'. so i thought i'd just ask you to look around a little if you happened to hear anything about this well. maybe you could go and see it, and then tell me. i've written down the name on this paper," finished the man, thrusting his trembling fingers into his pocket, and bringing out a small piece of not over-clean paper.

"why, of—of course, mr. hodges," promised cordelia, doubtfully, as she took the paper. "i'd love to do anything i could for you—anything! only i'm afraid i don't know much about oil wells, you see. do they look just like—water wells, with a pump or a bucket? bertha's aunt has one of those on her farm."

"i don't know, child, i don't know," murmured the old man, shaking his head sadly, as he turned away. "sometimes i think there ain't any such things, anyhow. but you'll do your best, i know. i can trust you!"

"why, of course," returned cordelia, earnestly, slipping the bit of paper into the envelope of genevieve's letter in her hand.

in her own room that night cordelia wilson got out her list marked "things to do in texas," and studied it with troubled eyes. she had now one more item to add to it—and it was already so long!

she had started the list for her own benefit. then had come the request from queer old hermit joe to be on the lookout for his son who had gone years ago to texas. after that, commissions for others followed rapidly. so many people had so many things they wanted her to do in texas!—and nobody wanted them talked about in sunbridge.

slowly, with careful precision, she wrote down this last one. then, a little dubiously, she read over the list.

see the blue bonnet—the texas state flower. find out if it really is shaped like a bonnet.

bring home a piece of prairie grass.

see a real buffalo.

find hermit joe's son, john, who ran away to texas twenty years ago.

see an osage orange hedge.

see a broncho bursted (obviously changed over from "busted").

find out for mrs. miller if cowboys do shoot at sight, and yell always without just and due provocation.

see a mesquite tree.

inquire if any one has seen mrs. snow's daughter, lizzie, who ran away with a texas man named higgins.

pick a fig.

see a rice canal.

find out what has become of mrs. granger's cousin, lester goodwin, who went to texas fourteen years ago.

see cotton growing and pick a cotton boll, called "texas roses."

see peanuts growing.

inquire for james hunt, brother of miss sally hunt.

see a real indian.

look at oil well for mr. hodges, and see if there is any there.

"now if i can just fix all those people's names in my mind," mused cordelia, aloud; "and seems as if i might—there are only four. john sanborn, lizzie higgins, lester goodwin, and james hunt," she chanted over and over again. she was still droning the same refrain when she fell asleep that night.