“You did come home, Gus,” Mr. Manley murmured. “This is your home from now on!”
“Oh, Dad, isn’t this too romantic for words!” Belle Ada burst out. “And all this happened because the letters Mrs. Tripp sent were mislaid! But, Gus, didn’t you know your wife was Joe Marino’s sister?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Nope! That’s one too many for me, even now. His name’s Marino, an’ hers is—I mean was—Kolto. I don’t see—”
“Gus, if you do any more thinkin’ you’ll get a headache!” Mr. Manley exclaimed, laughing loudly. Then he clapped his re-engaged cowboy on the back. “Pull up that chair an’ dive into this here roast chicken! Now, boys, I’ll drink that toast I started—here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Tripp. May they live long an’ happy an’ never have more than one scrap a day!”
“Bardwell!” Mrs. Manley chided, and smiled. “I’m sure Gus and his wife won’t have one single dispute as long as they’re married!”
“Well, I don’t reckon we will either; hey, honey?” Gus exclaimed, and glanced at his wife lovingly. “Boss, you ought to see this little girl ride. I want to match her with Teddy some day. Honestly, boss, she—”
“Gus, sit down!” his wife, her face pink, pulled his arm. “They don’t want to hear all that.”
“Sure we do!” Roy declared. “Jules, you sit over next to your sister. I guess Sing Lung won’t mind if you leave him. Will you, Sing?”
“Me no min’ anyt’ing! Me happy—Me likee loast chickee velly, velly much! You glandflather—him do too,” and he proceeded to test the capacity of his mouth.
“He means so does your old man—an’ he’s right, at that!” Mr. Manley laughed. “Sing Lung, you’re not gettin’ ahead of the boss at chicken eatin’!”