"Huh! You meant it. Wonder how many times he'd get up at midnight and
plow through three-foot snow for six miles to see the most ungrateful,
squalling little brat----"

"Was it me, doc?" she ungrammatically demanded.

"It was you, Miss Impudence."

They had reached the door, but she held him there a moment, while she
laughed delightedly and hugged him. "I knew it was me. As if we'd let
our old doc go, or have anything to do with a young ignoramus from
Denver! Didn't you know I was joking? Of course you did."

He still pretended severity. "Oh, I know you. When it comes to
wheedling an old fool, you've got the rest of the girls in this valley
beat to a fare-you-well."

"Is that why you always loved me?" she asked, with a sparkle of
mischief in her eye.

"I didn't love you. I never did. The idea!" he snorted. "I don't know
what you young giddy pates are coming to. Huh! Love you!"

"I'll forgive you, even if you did," she told him sweetly.

"That's it! That's it!" he barked. "You forgive all the young idiots
when they do. And they all do-- every last one of them. But I'm too
old for you, young lady. Sixty-three yesterday. Huh!"

"I like you better than the younger ones."