“I’d say you was a nut!”
“That’s the right answer. Nuts about you, kiddo. Say, I’m savin’ me jack these days. Everything’s gonta be jake with me. No more booze—no more slips. Now what d’ye say you an’ me——”
“Tell it to Lil o’ the Lobbies—she’d like to hear it, I guess.”
“Aw, cut that old stuff! Be reasonable, now. Slip us a kiss. Wing-o, and le’s ferget the bitter past. Le’s you an’ me get married whether The Crow cares or not. Then I c’n get in here and help move things along. I c’n get some stiffs, I’ll bet. You an’ me c’n keep yer dad away from the booze—and we’ll make some jack. Leave it to us, kid, hey?”
She looked him over. “I’m sore on you, I’ll admit,” she said at last. “I liked you a little—once, but now it’s all off. That’s all’s to it. You might jes’ as well trade back with Demijohn and drive snap. ’Cause I ain’t gonta see you any more. I can’t trust you. If you keep on haulin’ water, you c’n find out fer yerself if the tank’s empty. I won’t come out. So you better go back to yer snap. I’m off you for life!”
“Now, lissen, honey—lissen——”
“On yer way! I’m busy. I’m gettin’ dinner. You deceived me once, and you got my goat. Find Lil o’ the Lobbies; she’ll listen to you!”
“Now, lissen—lissen!”
But the flaps of the tent had dropped, and from inside came a hummed tune as Wing o’ the Crow went on with her work.
Mr. Daisy sighed wearily, examined the galvanized tank and filled it, then drove to the watering trough at the stable tent, all unaware that a black eye was peering at him through a tiny hole in the cook tent.