He looked at her with slow-growing, uncomprehending surprise.

"What things?" he demanded finally.

"There you go again! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Look!
You've got Saxon blushing!"

"I am not," Saxon denied indignantly.

"An' if you keep on, Mary, you'll have me blushing," Billy
growled. "I guess I know what's right an' what ain't. It ain't
what a guy says, but what he thinks. An' I'm thinkin' right, an'
Saxon knows it. An' she an' I ain't thinkin' what you're thinkin'
at all."

"Oh! Oh!" Mary cried. "You're gettin' worse an' worse. I never
think such things."

"Whoa, Mary! Backup!" Bert checked her peremptorily. "You're in
the wrong stall. Billy never makes mistakes like that."

"But he needn't be so raw," she persisted.

"Come on, Mary, an' be good, an' cut that stuff," was Billy's
dismissal of her, as he turned to Saxon. "How near did I come to
it?"

"One hundred and twenty-two," she answered, looking deliberately
at Mary. "One twenty two with my clothes."