Betty rose, her face flushing. "No," she said sharply; "the puppy."
Bob looked at her twice before he said, in a slightly disappointed voice, "Uh-huh."
When Calumet came into the kitchen half an hour later, having stabled his horses and washed his face and hands from the basin he found on the porch, he found his supper set out on the table; but Betty was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Betty?" he demanded of Bob, who was romping delightedly with the new dog, which showed its appreciation of its new friend by yelping joyously.
"I reckon she's gone to bed," returned the young man.
For a few minutes Calumet stood near the door, watching the dog and the boy. Several times he looked toward the other doors, disappointment revealed in his eyes. Was he to take Betty's departure before his arrival as an indication that she had fled from him? He had seen her when she had pressed her face to the window some time before, and it now appeared to him that she had deliberately left the room to avoid meeting him. He frowned and walked to the table, looking down at the food. She had thought of him, at any rate.
He sat at the table and took several bites of food before he spoke again.
"Betty see the pup?" he asked.
"Yep."
"Like him?"