Oakhurst. I understand you: it would be bad for the discoverer. Never fear, I will be patient.
Jovita. But I feared that you might meet Concho.
Oakhurst. Concho—Concho—(meditatively). Let me see,—tall, dark, long in the arm, weighs about one hundred and eighty, and active.
Jovita. Yes; tell me! You have met him?
Oakhurst. Possibly, possibly. Was he a friend of yours?
Jovita. No!
Oakhurst. That's better. Are his pursuits here sedentary, or active?
Jovita. He is my father's major-domo.
Oakhurst. I see: a sinecure. (Aside.) Well, if he has to lay up for a week or two, the rancho won't suffer.
Jovita. Well?