seen, and the ripest of cherry lips, behind the smiling depths of
which sparkled two rows of tiny pearls. He wished she would look
at HIM and smile again. There wasn't any use trying to melt a
sundae with it, anyhow.

"Sure, it's a good year on the range and the price of cows
jumping," he heard his sub-conscious self make answer to the
patronizing inquiries of him of the "boiled" shirt.

Funny how pretty hair of that color was especially when there was
so much of it. You might call it a sort of coppery gold where the
little curls escaped in tendrils and ran wild. A fellow--"

"Yes, I reckon most of the boys will drop around to the Fourth of
July celebration. Got to cut loose once in a while, y'u know."

A shy glance shot him and set him a-tingle with a queer delight.
Gracious, what pretty dark velvety lashes she had!

She was rising already, and as she paid for the ice cream that
innocent gaze smote him again with the brightest of Irish eyes
conceivable. It lingered for just a ponderable sunlit moment or
him. She had smiled once more.

After a decent interval Mac pursued his petit charmer to the
hotel. She was seated on the porch reading a magazine, and was
absorbedly unconscious of him when he passed. For a few awkward
moments he hung around the office, then returned to the porch and
took the chair most distant from her. He had sat there a long ten
minutes before she let her hands and the magazine fall into her