"Have ye, Callista?" Rilly Trigg put in daringly, as neither of the principals seemed disposed to speak.
"The names that the days have already got suits me well enough," Callista observed drily. "I don't know why I should go namin' ary one of 'em over again."
There was a great laugh at this, of which Cleaverage appeared entirely oblivious.
"Yes," he began quietly, when it had subsided, "I'm about to put me up a house—I like to be a-buildin'—a man might as well improve his property. There's one gal that wants me mighty bad, and has wanted me for a long while; sometimes I'm scared she'll get me. Reckon I might as well be ready."
"Ye hear that, Callisty?" crowed little Rilly Trigg. "Ye hear 10 that! Have ye told him adzackly the kind of house ye want? I 'low ye ort."
"Put a little yellow side o' that red," advised Callista composedly, busying herself wholly with the hat Rilly was trimming. "There—don't you think that looks better?"
Rilly made a face at Fuson and Cleaverage, and laughed.
"No need to ask her which nor whether," said Lance nonchalantly. "Any place I am is bound to suit Callista. I intend that my house shall be the best in the Turkey Tracks; but if it wasn't she'd never find it out, long as I was there."
Again there was a chorus of appreciative laughter.
"How's that, Callista—is it so for a fact?" inquired Fuson, eager to see the game go on.