"Oh—lonesome." A sigh seemed to waft over the wire. "You see, I have quarreled with Mars again. He would drink out of your big dipper in spite of me! I knew you wouldn't like that—"
"Oh—why no, of course not!" The hoarseness broke slightly, here and there. A worried tone was faintly manifesting itself.
"And I was wondering when you are coming to take me for another ride!"
"Why—ah—just as soon as I can, Miss Venus. You know my time ain't my own—but maybe Sunday I could git off."
"How nice! What a bad cold you have! How did you catch, it?" Sweetly solicitous now, that voice.
"Why, I dunno—"
"Was it from going without your coat when we were riding last time?"
"I—yes, I guess it was; but that don't matter. I'd be willing to ketch a dozen colds riding with you. It don't matter at all."
"Oh, but it does! It matters a great deal—Dearie! Did you really think I was that nasty Mary V Selmer calling you up?"
"Why, no, I—I was just talking to her father—but as soon as I—I was thinking maybe the old man had forgot something, and had her—uh course I knowed your voice right away—sweetheart." That was very daring. The man's forehead was all beaded with perspiration by this time, and it was not the heat that caused it. "You know I wouldn't talk to her if I didn't have to." It is very difficult to speak in honeyed accents that would still carry a bullfrog hoarseness, but the man tried it, nevertheless.