mortgages, anyhow?"

"Blamed if _I_ know, Angy! Thanks, Mrs. Quinn."

"Sure, an' you're welcome, me boy." Angela had gone out on the step. The
old Irishwoman saw her chance. "For the love o' Mike, 'Red,' woo her, an'
woo her hard! There _is_ a feller in Bisbee. She's after lovin' ye, but
you're too slow--slower'n the molasses I just poured on yer griddle-cakes
fer ye!"

"I'll try," said the accommodating "Red." "You're a good friend, Mrs.
Quinn. I won't forget you when I own this place!"

"Be off, now! Ye've got some travelin' to do before ye're able to win
Angela. Then ye can think of buyin' a ranch."

She literally pushed him from her domain; and he found himself by Angela's
side out of doors.

The bright sunlight touched her hair, and they went over to a pergola she
had had built, covered with vines. A little fountain tinkled near it, and
the heat of the day would not bother them here.

For three delirious hours, "Red" was alone with Angela. One moment she
pouted, the next she let him touch her hand.

"You may be going away soon, 'Red.' Will you write to me if you do?"

"Will I?" he cried, "Every day--a postal-card at least. I ain't much at
letters.... But I'm not so sure I'm goin', Angy. Something tells me that