The question was ingenious. Johnny recovered his tongue in time to answer for himself.
“I don’t know anythin’ about him to make me ashamed to call him friend.”
“Your standard ain’t high,” snapped the old man. “A person who’ll go snoopin’ round a girl’s bedroom ain’t likely to pick his friends carefully.”
The inference was too thinly veiled to escape Molly.
“Explain yourself, father. What do you mean?”
“You bet I’ll explain. He knows what I mean. I figured he wouldn’t be sayin’ anythin’ about that to you. I caught him red-handed, I tell you. Snoopin’ in your room, where no man has ever set his foot—not even me. Wa’n’t anybody to home but the Chink and Hughie. Just the chance he was lookin’ for. Am I lyin’?” he demanded of Johnny.
The boy’s cheeks were scarlet! Molly was staring at him amazedly. With a clicking of syllables Johnny’s answer leaped from his lips:
“Since you speak of it, tell her the whole truth!”
“That’s what I intend!” Turning to Molly the old man said: “When I surprised him, he made a lot of talk about bringin’ you a present. Ain’t no need of a forty-dollar-a-month cowpunch spendin’ his money bringin’ you presents, and lookin’ for some favor in return. Ain’t nothin’ money would buy that I’ve ever refused you.”
Molly tried to protest, but the old man waved her down.