"What an extraordinary person," said Mrs. Vining, when Johnson overtook us. Her lips were open in a fixed smile and her skin faded yellow under its powder.
"He's harmless, ma'am," Lafe assured her. "Don't you be scared. He's just a bit locoed. We'll go fetch him to-morrow or next day, if you say so."
"No, no," she begged. "Leave the poor creature alone."
I could see her hands tremble in her lap. She seemed distrait all the way home and as soon as Mrs. Horne had done embracing her, she retired. Next morning, however, she was sitting on the porch and called Lafe to her side. They talked there for an hour or two and we could hear Johnson's soft bass laugh. When he joined me in the corrals to catch the horses, he was looking very pleased with himself.
Mrs. Vining spent the next three days in minute probing of range life. At least, that is what Lafe told me she found to talk to him about. Apparently Mrs. Horne had little sympathy for this seeking after knowledge, for she laughed a trifle impatiently and remarked to me that men were idiots the world over and it was none of her business.
She made it her business on the third day.
"Why don't you leave Lafe alone?" she demanded.
"Why, my dear Martha, I'm not running after Mr. Johnson."
"Well, then, what do you find to talk about all the time? It's shameful, Judy."
"There you go again. One can't be civil to any sort of a man, but that Puritanical conscience of yours—"