CHAPTER Six.
When we flew down the grade into California, everything seemed settled; we were going to Santa Barbara where Dad was building a little palace for his Elizabeth as a grand surprise (Blakely's mother was in Santa Barbara); we would take rooms at the same hotel; I would be presented to Mrs.Porter, and as soon as the palace on the hill was completed--a matter of two or three months--Blakely, and Dad, and I would move into it.

Only, first, Blakely and I were going to San Bernardino on our wedding trip.
Wasn't that sweet of Blakely?
When I told him about San Bernardino, and the livery-stable, and the cottage where Dad and I used to live, he said he'd rather spend our honeymoon there than any place in the world.

Of course Dad had never sold the cottage, and it was touching to see how pleased he was with our plan.
"You'll find everything in first-class condition," he said; "I go there often myself.

I built a little house in one corner of the garden for the caretakers.

You should see that gold-of-Ophir rose, Elizabeth; it has grown beyond belief." When we reached Oakland--where our car had to be switched off and attached to a coast line, train--we found we had four hours to kill, so Dad and Blakely and I (it was Blakely's idea) caught the boat across to San Francisco.
What do you suppose that dear boy wanted us to go over there for?
And where do you suppose he took us?
He took us straight to Shreve's, and he and Dad spent a beautiful two hours in choosing an engagement ring for me.