The situation seemed to call for diplomacy, and Jim McWilliams
moved to a nearer chair. "I'm right sorry it happened, ma'am, and
I'll bet Miss Messiter is, too. Y'u see, we been awful busy one
way and 'nother, and I plumb neglected to send one of the boys to
the post-office."
"Why didn't one of them walk over after supper?" she demanded,
geverely.
He curbed the smile that was twitching at his facial muscles.
"Well, o' course it ain't so far,--only forty-three
miles--still--"
"Forty-three miles to the post-office?"
"Yes, ma'am, only forty-three. If you'll excuse me this time--"
"Is it really forty-three?"
He saw that her sudden smile had brought out the dimples in the
oval face and that her petulance had been swept away by his
astounding information.
"Forty-three, sure as shootin', except twict a week when it comes
to Slauson's, and that's only twenty miles," he assured her.
"Used to be seventy-two, but the Government got busy with its
rural free delivery, and now we get it right at our doors."
"You must have big doors," she laughed.
"All out o' doors," he punned. "Y'u see, our house is under our
hat, and like as not that's twenty miles from the ranchhouse when
night falls.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134