“We’re on the U. P., too. We’re——”
From the kitchen another woman hurried in, her hands all flour, to find out what was going on. And George shouted and charged.
“There’s my mother. Hooray!”
“For goodness’ sake!”
“Never mind your hands, ma. I’m dirty, anyhow.”
And she didn’t; he didn’t, either.
“Well, well, well! We thought one of you was out at end of track and the other was surveying.”
“So we were. We just got into town. And we thought you were down at Denver.”
“So we were. And we’ve just got in, too—only two or three days ago. We’ve hardly opened up for business, yet.”
“What are you going to do?”