Frank had worked hard to make a favorable impression on Miss Abigail Gale, and had succeeded very well, so he had induced her to take Inza to witness the Indian celebration.
No one but Frank could have succeeded in this, for the spinster detested and feared redskins, but Merry seemed to have some hypnotic influence over her.
Hodge assisted Inza from the train, while Frank aided Miss Abigail to alight, doing so with as much gallantry and grace as if she were a girl of sixteen.
Indeed, her hard face seldom relaxed at all save when she looked at Frank, and then, at times, an expression of positive gentleness would soften her features somewhat.
Frank had not won her good will by aid of a flattering tongue. He believed actions spoke louder than words, and he had taken pains to study her peculiarities that he might know what to do to please her. In this manner he had been remarkably successful with her, although it was Miss Abagail’s firm belief that the entire male sex “didn’t amount to nothing nohow.”
“Look at Frankie, b’ys!” chuckled Barney, giving Ephraim and Hans each a nudge. “It’s a shlick lad he is. If it wasn’t fer him, Inza’d nivver git anywhere at all, at all; but he makes th’ ould hen think she’s a p’ach, an’ she’ll be afther doin’ onnything he loikes fer her to do.”
“By gum! he’s slick,” grinned the boy from Vermont. “I ain’t never seen no female gal ur woman that he wasn’t able to chop ice with when he sot out.”
“Yaw,” nodded Hans, gravely; “he peen aple to chop ices mit der girls ven I lets ’em alone. Uf course he don’d stood no show mit me against.”
“Nivver a bit!” agreed Barney. “It’s yersilf thot’s a great masher. Ye’re a perfict Apollo.”
“You pet my poots!” said the Dutch boy proudly. “I don’d bother Vrankie mit pecause he vos a coot feller, und his feelings I don’d vant to hurt.”