of her impatience, Fraser interrupted his interminable monologue to say,
without change of intonation:

"Don't get sore on him; he's that way half the time. I rode herd one night
on a feller that was going to hang for murder at dawn, and he set just
like that for hours." She raised her brows inquiringly, at which he
continued: "But you can't always tell; when my brother got married he
acted the same way."

After an hour, during which Emerson barely spoke, she tired of the other
man's anecdotes, which had long ceased to be amusing, and, going to the
piano, shuffled the sheet music idly, inquiring:

"Do you care for music?" Her remark was aimed at Emerson, but the other
answered:

"I'm a nut on it."

She ignored the speaker, and cast another question over her shoulder:

"What kind do you prefer?" Again the adventurer outran his companion to
the reply:

"My favorite hymn is the _Maple Leaf Rag_. Let her go, professor."

Cherry settled herself obligingly and played ragtime, although she fancied
that Emerson stirred uneasily as if the musical interruption disturbed
him; but when she swung about on her seat at the conclusion, he was still
lax and indifferent.