"Spit it out, aunty, now you've started in! I don't mind," said the
fair giggler, now apparently casting off all restraint in an outburst of
laughter.

"Well," said the old woman, with dogged desperation, "suppose, then,
that that young girl thar is the niece of Snapshot Harry, who stopped
the coach the last time"--

"And ain't ashamed of it, either!" interrupted the young girl, rising
and disclosing in the firelight an audacious but wonderfully pretty
face; "and supposing he IS my uncle, that ain't any cause for their
bedevilin' my poor old cousins Hiram and Sophy thar!" For all the
indignation of her words, her little white teeth flashed mischievously
in the dancing light, as if she rather enjoyed the embarrassment of
her audience, not excluding her own relatives. Evidently cousin Sophy
thought so too.

"It's all very well for you to laugh, Flo, you limb!" she retorted
querulously, yet with an admiring glance at the girl, "for ye know thar
ain't a man dare touch ye even with a word; but it's mighty hard on me
and Hiram, all the same."

"Never you mind, Sophy dear," said the girl, placing her hand half
affectionately, half humorously on the old woman's shoulder; "mebbe
I won't always be a discredit and a bother to you. Jest you hold
your hosses, and wait until uncle Harry 'holds up' the next Pioneer
Coach,"--the dancing devil in her eyes glanced as if accidentally on
the young expressman,--"and he'll make a big enough pile to send me to
Europe, and you'll be quit o' me."