“He busted the lock of that door, madame; rushed in, wrested the sprig of sage––”
“It was a club the size of my arm.”
“Wrested the club from that schoolmarm, brutally and ferociously forced her into her coat and hat, compelled her to mount her horse, and then deliberately drove her away from that––”
“Shut up, Lance. You remind me of one of those monstrosities they serve in the Lava House, that they call a combination salad. It’s about two-thirds wilted lettuce and the rest beets and carrots. I don’t ever eat them, but if I did they’d taste just like you sound.”
“Oh, all right, then. With only two weeks’ vacation I won’t have time for a real spree of Black Rim dialect and sober up in time for the University. Let me mix it, Belle. I’ll eat my own verbal combination salad, if anybody has to. I won’t ask you.”
“You’ll eat ’em, all right,” Tom stated briefly, lifting an eyebrow at him. “All I done, Belle, was to ride up to the Whipple shack to see who was camped there. It was that Douglas girl and the Boyle kids and them Swedes that live over beyond Boyle’s. They was all setting there having school,––with their overcoats on, half froze, and the wind howling through like it was a corral fence. So when the Douglas girl got her Scotch up and said she wouldn’t turn ’em loose to go home, I turned ’em loose myself and told ’em to beat it. And then I hazed her home. Seems like they think that shack is good enough for women and kids; but I 122 wouldn’t keep pigs in it, myself, without doing a lot of fixing on it first.”
“What dad seems to overlook is the attitude Boyle and old Scotty will take, when they hear how Tom Lorrigan broke up school for ’em. There’ll be something drop, if you ask me––I hope it drops before I have to leave.”
Belle looked at him meditatively. “And where were you, Lance? With Mary Hope?”
For answer, Lance smiled, with his mouth twisted a little to one side, which made him resemble Tom more than ever. “A fellow sure does hate to have his own father cut in––”