Oh, I wish it was summer,” sighed Ruth, looking out at the landscape. “It looks as though it never in this world could be summer again, doesn’t it? I wonder if it ever forgets to come—wouldn’t it be awful, Rose, if it did! Just think, waiting and waiting, and thinking that surely next week summer would come, and still it didn’t, until it was winter-time again!”  
“Yes, that would be awful,” agreed Rose, joining her sister at the window and looking out with her. “But wouldn’t it be nice if it forgot to be winter sometime, and summer kept right on? That’s the way it is in the tropics, I s’pose. Why don’t the inventors invent a way to spread summer all over? Spring and summer and fall and then spring right off.”
 
“Of course, we couldn’t ever play in the snow,” Ruth remarked.
 
“I Hum-mm.”
 
“And it would be funny to have Christmas in summer.”
 
“Yep, that’s true. I guess bits of winter are .”
 
“What’s imperative?”
 
“I guess it means nice, very nice. Yesterday Marmie said we needed to have the kitchen done over, and Dad said ‘yes that’s imperative, and so are two new horses.’ So it must mean something nice.”
 
Ruth nodded. “All the same, there’s much too much winter; it’s a greedy thing, taking such a lot out of the year. I’d like to get somewhere where it only lasts a few days.”
 
“Perhaps the fairy would take us to a place like that,” Rose put in. “We haven’t seen her for a long time.”
 
“Maybe she’d take us to California.... Oh, Rose, perhaps we could go and see Ramona!”
 
“Goody, but that would be ! I’m sure she will; she’s so sweet and obliging.”
 
“Which simply proves that listeners do hear good of themselves,” said the voice of Fairy Honeysqueak.
 
“Oh, fairy, have you been here long?”
 
“What do you suppose made you think of me, you funny dears?”
 
“Can’t we really think of you till you get here? That’s part of the magic, isn’t it?”
 
“Yes, it’s part of the magic. And so you were wishing for summer, eh? Or at least for summer weather.”
 
“We want to visit Ramona. Marmie read us 205all about her while we were still sick, and we did like her so much. And though we didn’t like the old Señora, the Moreno must be beautiful, even if they do raise sheep. Poor Ramona, we do love her so much!”
 
“Well,” said the fairy, “you’ll love her all the more after seeing her. But you’d better not say too much about being Americans, because you know the old Señora hasn’t the slightest use for you.”
 
“I know—but she never really knew a nice American, did she? Some of those Americans weren’t a bit nice, and I don’t wonder she thought we were pretty bad. But Ramona won’t mind, will she?”
 
“I don’t think she will,” and the fairy slipped her leaf-cool hands into theirs. “So shut your eyes, girls, and we’ll find out.”
 
The next thing the two girls knew they found themselves on the trellised walk that led from the to the in front of the house, the delightsome place where stood the great red jars in which the Señora grew her huge geraniums, her yellow and sweet-smelling . The white, walls of the house, in climbing and blossoming vines, showed here and there between the grape leaves that grew so luxuriantly over the trellis. Behind them sounded sweetly the of the brook, with the laughter and of the maids 206who were at their labour of washing the , and with the singing of many birds.
 
Rose and Ruth each drew in a long, rapturous breath.
 
“I guess this is where summer is born,” said Ruth.
 
“It smells like the middle of a rose,” agreed her sister. “But come on, probably Ramona is on the veranda waiting for us.”
 
They sauntered up the wide walk, and presently reached the arched veranda, where, in that raised portion at the westernmost end where the Señora spent most of her time, the sisters saw two figures bending over a large bird-cage. One of these, in its black gown with a piece of lace draped mantilla-wise over her head and shoulders, was surely the Señora. The other, slender, youthful, in white, must be Ramona.
 
Just as the girls set foot on the steps that led from path to veranda, this white-clad figure turned, and the next instant came running to meet them ... Ramona!
 
Their hearts leaped to meet her, the gentle, adorable young thing, with her blue-black hair hanging so straight, her olive skin beautifully flushed, her deep blue eyes that seemed black under the thick, long . And how sweet was her voice as she made them welcome.
 
“This is indeed a happiness,” she said, “and the Señora too is glad that you can come, for Don Felipe has been eager to see you. Will you come up and speak to the Señora at once?”
 
 
“Yes,” returned Rose, “but it is you, Ramona, whom we love. Will the Señora let us spend this day with you?”
 
“Doubtless she will consent—” and the girl turned to precede them up the steps.
 
The Señora turned slowly to meet the three. Her dark eyes met theirs , but coldly. She did not seem very much interested.
 
“Ramona will take care of you, my children,” she said. “I have given her permission for this day to leave her duties in the house—it is nothing,” she added, as the two visitors began to thank her. “Ramona does not often see any one of her own age and station.”
 
Evidently the Señora took them for the daughters of some Mexican landholder. Both breathed a little sigh of relief. The old lady looked so dark and quiet among the radiant flowers, which tossed their heads in the wind as though they were laughing, that she made the two young Americans feel afraid of her. As Ruth said later, she felt like winter, and they didn’t want anything to do with winter.
 
“Felipe is busy just now,” the Señora finished, “but he will join you in the court, when you come in for the noon meal.” She bowed her head, dismissing them.
 
“And the birds?” asked Ramona, hesitating.
 
“Oh, the birds ...” the Señora turned to the 208cage, where several little brown and green birds were about and . “I will attend to them, Ramona.”
 
The three girls turned away, running down the steps into the garden. Never had Rose and Ruth imagined that one place could hold so many flowers. And beyond the garden came of oranges and almonds, also in flower.
 
“How wonderful—Oh, Ramona, do you always live in the thick of such a storm of flowers?”
 
“Almost always, Ruth, there are flowers, more than can be numbered. But this is spring, you know, and best of all. But we must hurry ... I have something to do ... I need your help.”
 
“What is it?” asked both girls. They saw that Ramona seemed troubled. They had stopped under a group of pepper trees, whose feathery waved in the breeze. Beyond them rose the hills, blue and serrated against the deep sky. Behind, from the they had reached, the house was plainly visible, long and low, white and green, a lovely sight amid its spreading gardens and meadows. Figures were moving about, dressed in white and pink and blue, girls at their work.
 
Ramona sighed.
 
“I do not know whether I am doing right,” she said, “but how could I refuse? See, I have a basket hidden here that we must take with us.” She down and from a of fern leaves pulled out a covered basket.
 
Rose and Ruth were excited. This looked like an adventure.
 
“Tell us, Ramona. What are you going to do?”
 
“We must go to the hills and hurry, for the Señora expects us back by noon. There is hidden a poor man, running from Americans who say he has stolen a horse—they are bad men, they lie....” Ramona’s eyes flashed.
 
“Why don’t you tell the Señora?”
 
“This Indian was here last year working for the Señora, and somehow he her. It was not really his fault, but the Señora would not allow him to explain. I am afraid that if she knew he were here now she might not let him go on.”
 
All this while the girls had been following a narrow, vague path that wound among the trees and was evidently rarely travelled. Ramona led the way with the basket on her arm, to let Rose take it when it began to tire her. Presently the path into a of wild mustard, which Rose and Ruth recognised at once. The filmy golden flowers floated high above their heads, and the fine branching stems and leaves made an intricate tangle through which it was slow work to force a passage. But the beauty and the youngsters.
 
“What a wonderful land!” Rose exclaimed. “You have never seen winter, have you, Ramona?”
 
Ramona laughed. “We think we have winter here, when the nights grow and there are 210not so many flowers, but I have heard of lands where everything dies and is covered with white cold snow, like that on the mountain-tops. That I have never seen. It must be sad.”
 
“Well, no, not so sad in some ways,” Ruth answered, and the two sisters launched out into a description of winter sports that made Ramona open her great eyes very wide.
 
They now reached a little brook, which they crossed, and found themselves among the foothills, threading along a little cañon where occasional trees clambered up the broken sides and stood boldly against the sky.
 
“He is hiding here,” Ramona said. Raising her voice, she gave a clear call.
 
From a little further on came an answer, and presently, on a rock some way up the trail, the girls saw a man . He disappeared, and then came into view again, heading toward them.
 
Ramona stopped, setting down the basket.
 
“Poor fellow,” she said. “He has a hard trip before him, he is going to join relatives and must cross desert land to reach them. It is hard, the way the Indians are treated.”
 
“Why are so many people cruel?” Ruth wondered. “When you read history or even stories, it seems as if the world were full of cruel people.”
 
“I guess they like to............