Waddles wagged a negative head.
"He's Calvin Harris," she stated.
Instead of the blank dismay which she had expected to see depicted on Waddles's face at this announcement, it seemed to her that the big man was pleased.
"The hell!" he said. "'Scuse me, Billie. So this here is Cal! Well, well—now what do you think of that?"
"I think that I don't want to stay here alone with him while you're out after the horses," she returned.
"Wrong idea!" the big man promptly contradicted. "You've got to stick it out for two years, girl. The best thing you can do is to get acquainted; and figure out how to get along the best you can—the pair of you."
"That's probably true," she assented indifferently. "I'll have to face a number of things that are equally unpleasant in the next two years—so I might as well start now. He must have praised the food in order to win you to his side in two minutes flat."
Waddles's face expressed pained reproach.
"Now there it is again!" he said. "You know I'm only on one side—yours. Old Cal Warren had some definite notion when he framed this play; so it's likely this young Cal is on your side, too."
"But even more likely not," she stated.