"Why, you poor man!" said she. "Of course you're starved! It must be nearly eight o'clock! I almost forget about eating, living here alone. You shall have supper directly. Will you come in or sit a spell outside?"
"Reckon I'll come in," said Red. "Don't want to lose sight of you now that I've found you."
It was some time since Miss Mattie had felt that anyone had cared enough for her not to want to lose sight of her, and a delicate warm bloom went over her cheeks. She hurried into the little kitchen.
"Mattie!" called Red.
"What is it, Will?" she answered, coming to the door.
"Can I smoke in this little house?"
"Cer—tainly! Sit right down and make yourself comfortable. Don't you remember what a smoker father was?"
Red tried the different chairs with his hand. They were not a stalwart lot. Finally he spied the home-made rocker in the corner. "There's the lad for me," he said, drawing it out. "Got to be kinder careful how you throw two-hundred-fifty pounds around."
"Mercy!" cried Miss Mattie, pan in hand. "Do you weigh as much as that, Will?"
"I do," returned Red, with much satisfaction. "And there isn't over two pounds of it fat at that."