He beamed now at the genial cook's greeting, and took out his harmonica,
running over the full scale as a suitable answer.

"Here, sit ye down, 'Red,'" Mrs. Quinn ordered. "But first see that yer
feet is wiped off. I don't want to see no dirt along me clean floor."

She was busy with a place for him near the window, happy, as most women
are, to serve a handsome young chap, and secretly wishing in her heart that
she had him for a son.

The coffee was miraculously brought, and soon the griddle-cakes, gloriously
brown, and deftly turned by Mrs. Quinn, were in front of him.

"Gee! you make a feller happy, Mrs. Quinn!" said the appreciative "Red,"
sitting down, and getting busy, "Won't you come to Bisbee with Angela an'
me the next time we go to the movies?"

She gave him a half-scornful look. "An' what would yez want with an old
woman like meself taggin' along with yez now?" Mrs. Quinn exclaimed, her
arms akimbo. "Ain't ye happy enough with yer Angela, an' no fat funeral
like me occupyin' too much room in the Ford? Go along, me lad, an' have a
good time with yer colleen! She'd like it better alone with ye, too--be
sure o' that!"

"Of course I would!"

They hadn't seen Angela come in. She stood in the doorway like a vision--a
morning-glory from which the freshness of the early hours never seemed to
depart.