"Reddy! Why, of course I'll see Reddy," cried Genevieve, springing to her feet.
A minute later, to Nancy's vast displeasure, Genevieve was ushering into the sitting room a sandy-haired man in full cowboy costume from broad-brimmed hat and flannel shirt to chaparejos and high-heeled boots.
Reddy evidently saw the surprise in Genevieve's face.
"Yes, I know," he smiled sheepishly, as Nancy left the room with slow reluctance, "I reckon you're surprised to see me in this rig, and I'll own I hain't wore 'em much since I came; but to-day, to come to see you, I just had to. You see, Miss Genevieve, it's what this 'ere rig stands for that I want to see you about, anyhow."
"About—this—rig?"
"Well, yes—in a way. It's about the West."
"What is it?"
"It's Martha—Mis' Granger, my cousin. I want her to go back with me. She's all alone, and so am I. And she'd come in a minute, but she's—afraid."
"What of?"
Reddy's lips twitched.