"I'd give you the prettiest little cutting-pony you ever looked at, a pinto with blue eyes. That old skate you're on isn't fit for you to ride."
The Babe's own blue eyes filled with tears.
"Queen Berengaria isn't very beautiful," she admitted, "but she's awful good!"
Grannis, with that lack of sympathy which his type of man shows for the tender sensibilities of a child, burst out laughing.
"You just say that because she's the best you can get," he surmised, smilingly. "If I had you over at the Circle G to be my little girl, we'd shoot this old bag of bones and give you something that could go."
Old bag of bones! Shoot Queen Berengaria! Harvey Grannis never knew that then and there he settled the question as to his namesake's ever agreeing, so long as she could fight the question, to set foot on the Circle G as a home.
"Did you say you wanted me to take a message to mother?" she asked quietly, after a somewhat lengthy pause.
"Yes," said the ranchman. "You just tell 'em I said that the big spring's liable to give out--and then she'll maybe think different about some things."
Small Harvie repeated the message, her clear eyes fixed on her uncle's face.
"Now I can say it just like you did," and solemnly she parroted the big man's words, giving quite unconsciously his intonation, and the threat that was in his voice. It appeared that he did not relish this, for he put in hastily: