“No,” he returned plaintively, “I don’t think I do.”
“I didn’t say do you; I say, don’t it,” snapped Betsy, in no mood for badinage. “If you hadn’t come so soon, I’d have had it aired out. I’d like to shake Mrs. Pogram till her teeth chatter.”
Irving set down his suit-case.
“As I remember, Mrs. Pogram’s teeth aren’t calculated to chatter. They don’t—what is the technical term now?”
Betsy grunted. “I do feel ashamed to have you come into such a comfortless place, Mr. Irving.”
“I’d rather be here, Betsy, even if I have to wear a clothes-pin on my nose while unmaking my toilet. I can sleep on the porch, you know. You think—eh, Betsy, you think there’s no use trying to side-step the Yellowstone?”
“We’re as good as there,” returned Betsy sententiously. “Mrs. Bruce says that when once you get into that bank, she might as well count on the wind that blows as you taking a vacation at any stated time; and you know it’s got to be a stated time for the Yellowstone.”
Irving sighed.
“I hope we know our place, Betsy,” he returned.