Megsy found that opening a can was not as easy as it looked. “May I help?” a pleasant voice asked and there in the open door stood the good-looking young outlaw, sombrero in hand.
Virginia, who had at that moment appeared with the cream, noted that, with his hat off, Tom’s face looked refined, even aristocratic, and she was more puzzled than ever concerning the identity of their new cow-boy guest.
“Oh Tom,” Margaret looked up, her face flushed from the unusual exertion. “Some good fairy must have told you that we are in dire need of a strong arm. Do you know how to wield this weapon, commonly called a can opener?”
“Indeed, I do,” was the quick reply. “I have often camped in the hills at home and so I am quite an expert at the culinary art.”
Virginia made a mental note. Wherever Tom came from there also were hills. Hanging his sombrero on a rack near the door, Tom took the weapon and dexterously opened one can after another.
“This surely is a varied menu,” he laughingly exclaimed when the task was done. “How many cans have you allowed for each boarder?”
Malcolm came in before Virg could reply, and after having washed at the pump on the back porch and rubbed his head well with the big rough towel that was daily renewed, he took from his pocket a comb and looking into the small mirror, he made himself presentable.
He then went to his room for a moment’s rest and when he was gone, Virg inquired. “By the way, Tom, how did you like our cow-boys?”
“First rate. They are fine lads,” Tom said with enthusiasm, “but their lingo is so different from that which I am used to that at times I can hardly grasp their meaning.”
“Point two,” thought Virginia. “Tom hasn’t been in the cattle country long else he would be familiar with the cow-boys’ manner of speaking.”