“No, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to marry no red head.”
“Maybe you’d like him better,” said Peter, pointing to Andy. “I guess anybody would.”
Andy was amused. He saw that he had made a conquest of the young lady, but did not feel much flattered. He would have been perfectly willing to transfer all her admiration to his companion, if the young lady had been willing.
When the dinner was over the two boys rose from the table, and, bidding good-by to Mary Ann and her mother, left the farmhouse.
“I say, that was a hunky dinner,” said Peter.
“It was very good, indeed.”
“It was enough sight better than I got at old Brackett’s.”
“Don’t they live well there?”
“No, they don’t. The old woman ain’t much of a cook. Besides, she’s mean. We didn’t have pie, only now and then, and she’d cut a pie into eight pieces, and there wasn’t no chance of a second slice for me.”
“By the way, Peter,” said Andy, with a sudden thought, “how would you like to work at a hotel?”