"What do you mean," he asks—"in a business way?"
"Why," says she—and it seemed to me that she reddened a little—"I mean that—well, if we should meet him by accident we wouldn't talk about screens or the hotel contract. Of course one can't help meetin' people sometimes. For instance, I happened to meet Mr. Parkinson yesterday. He had driven over and happened to be in the vicinity of the house where I board. I was goin' out for a walk, and he stopped his horse and spoke."
"Oh," says I, "he did, hey?" Jim Henry didn't say nothin'.
"Yes," she says; "but I didn't talk about the contract. Though our agreement wasn't actually made then, I hoped that it would be. Good mornin'; I must be goin'."
She started for the door, but she turned to say one more thing.
"Of course," she says, decided, "it is understood that you haven't agreed to my proposal simply because I am a girl. If that was the case I shouldn't permit it. I insist upon bein' treated exactly as if I were a man. You must promise that—both of you."
"Sure! Sure! That's understood," says Jacobs.
I said "Sure!" too, but my tone wa'n't quite so sartin. She went out, Jim Henry goin' with her as fur as the door. I follered him.
"Say," says I, "next time you turn a back somerset like this I'd like to know about it in advance. I've got a weak heart."
He didn't answer me at all. He was starin' down the road, just as 'Dolph had stared when the Eureka agent called the fust time.