“Oh, you’re up here on your vacation?” said she, a light of quick interest in her eyes, an unmistakable 40 friendliness in her voice. It was as if he had presented a letter from somebody well and favorably known.
“No, I’ve come up here to see about learning the sheep business.”
“Sheep business?” said she, looking at him with surprised eyes. “Sheep business?” this time with a shading of disgust. “Well, if I had sense enough to teach school I’d never want to see another sheep!”
Mackenzie smiled at her impetuous outburst in which she revealed in a word the discontent of her heart.
“Of course you know Mr. Sullivan?”
“He’s my father,” she returned. “This is my brother Charley; there are eight more of us at home.”
Charley grinned, his shyness still over him, but his alarm quieted, and gave Mackenzie his hand.
“The ranch is about thirteen or fifteen miles on up the creek from here,” she said, “You haven’t had your breakfast, have you?”
“No; I just about finished my grub yesterday.”
“I didn’t see any grease around your gills,” said the girl, in quite a matter-of-fact way, no flippancy in her manner. “Charley, stir up the fire, will you? I can’t offer you much, Mr. Mackenzie, but you’re welcome to what there is. How about a can of beans?”