Sandy McCrae squirmed uneasily in his sister's embrace, finding it embarrassing.
"That's plenty, that's plenty!" he growled. "You'd think I was a sole survivor or something. Say, what are you trying to do—choke me? There, you've kissed me three times already. Ouch! Darn it, don't hug me. My side's sore. Try that hold on Farwell. He looks as if he wouldn't mind."
Casey laughed. Sheila and Farwell reddened. A smothered chuckle from McHale showed that he was enjoying himself. He grinned over Sandy's shoulder.
"Howdy, Miss Sheila? Brothers don't know their own luck. Wisht I had a sister about your size."
"I'll adopt you right now!" she declared, and proceeded to give practical proof of it, somewhat to his confusion.
"You're an awful bluff, Tom," she accused him. "Really, I believe you're bashful with girls. I never suspected it before."
"It's just want of practice," grinned McHale. "Some day when I have time I'm going out to get me a girl like you. There was one down at——"
But Clyde's appearance interrupted McHale's reminiscences. She and Sheila, arms about each other, strolled away to exchange confidences. Casey and Farwell followed.
"We ain't in it," said McHale.
"Well, who wants to be?" said Sandy.