“Been well educated,” said Jim, “and got a head, besides. You’ll like her; she knows Europe better than some folks know their own front yard.”
“I was surprised at the vividness of my memory of Bill’s youthful combats,” said I.
Jim’s laugh rang out heartily through the Brushy Creek gorge.
“Well, I supposed you remembered those things, of course,” said he, “and so I insinuated some impression of the delight with which you dwell upon the stories of his prowess. It made him feel good.... I’m spoiling Bill, I guess, with these tales. He’ll claim to have a private graveyard next. As harmless a fellow as you ever saw, and the best cattle-feeder hereabouts. Got a good farm out there, Bill has; we may need it for stock yards or something, later on.”
“Why not hire a corps of landscape-gardeners, and make a park of it?” I inquired sarcastically. “We’ll certainly need breathing-spaces for the populace.”
“Good idea!” he returned gravely. And as he halted the equipage at the hotel, he repeated meditatively: “A mighty good idea, Al; we must figure on that a little.”
We were tired to silence when we reached our rooms; so much so that nothing seemed to make a defined and sharp impression upon my mind. I kept thinking all the time that I must have been mistaken in my first thought that I had never known the Trescotts.
“Their voices seem familiar to me,” said I, “and yet I can’t associate them with the old home at all. It’s very odd!”
As Alice stood before the mirror shaking down and brushing her hair, she said: “Do you suppose he thought you in earnest about that absurd park?”
“No,” I answered, “he understood me well enough; but what puzzles me is the question, was he in earnest?”