"Oh!" poor "Red" gasped, and leaped to his feet. "Would you, Angela?" He
looked at her, drank her beauty in, as though she were the only creature on
this earth.

"Certainly!" said Angela, coming over to him. "You're a boob, 'Red,' and if
you don't look out, there's a fellow over at Bisbee who--"

"Oh!" the anguished "Red" managed to get out. "_Is_ there, Angy?"

There was--of course there was--and there wasn't. Angela knew just how far
to go. Her black eyes danced. "Red" sat down again, after she had shoved
him back to his late breakfast. Mrs. Quinn, amused, was busy with some more
cakes, though "Red" had scarcely had time to begin the first batch. But she
knew his capacity, and she felt he would need sustaining food after
Angela's last remark.

"You don't always wave to me like you did the other day when I went by,"
said "Red," his lips in Mrs. Quinn's golden coffee.

"Why should I?" said Angela. "You don't always have such swell-looking
folks with you!"

"Oh, so that's why you waved!" disappointment in his tone.

"Maybe." She was teasing him, but he didn't know it. "Who were they?"

"A Mr. and Mrs. Pell, from New York. They're lookin' over property round
here.... But I don't care, Angy. Even if I had to go to Bisbee four times a
day and get some good-lookin' folks to bring down the road, I'd do it if
you'd wave to me! Oh, why can't you always be nice to me?"