“Take me over to the wagon. I want to see about getting lunch ready.”
We took her over to the wagon and on our way there corralled James and Minerva. Ethel had brought an oil stove for the making of coffee and the three began operations at once, while Sibthorp and I walked off to that part of the fair where the cattle tests were to be made later in the day.
I could see that whatever it was that Sibthorp wanted to say he was not going to find it easy to say it, for he made five or six false and utterly inconsequent starts and seemed ill at ease.
“Say, Ellery, you didn’t get me off here to tell me that you never saw such long horns on an ox. What do you care about oxen?”
“No, that’s so—er—say, Phil, the fact is, I believe that I am—that I think a good deal—”
“That you are in love with Cherry?”
“Why, how did you know it?” said Ellery, with a sigh of relief.
“Oh, when you’ve been through the mill yourself you’re always able to tell the symptoms. Now what can I do for you? Do you want me to propose?”
“No, no-o, but I want to know whether you think I’d stand any sort of show.”
“Why, my dear boy,” said I. “Aren’t you as good as anybody else on earth? Have you totally misconceived Emerson’s message? Go in and win. Cherry’s a good girl—as good as anybody in the world. You’re a good chap—good as anybody on earth. Tell her your life story, and then come to me for my congratulations.”