She heard this man drawl, "Jorth, heah's your kid come home." Ellen carried her bed inside the cabin, and unrolled it upon a couch built of boughs in the far corner.

She had forgotten Jean Isbel's package, and now it fell out under her sight.

Quickly she covered it.
A Mexican woman, relative of Antonio, and the only servant about the place, was squatting Indian fashion before the fireplace, stirring a pot of beans.

She and Ellen did not get along well together, and few words ever passed between them.

Ellen had a canvas curtain stretched upon a wire across a small triangular comer, and this afforded her a little privacy.