The old woman hesitated until Mary's smile melted its way into her heart.
Her lips trembled, and her watery blue eyes blinked.
“Well,” she began grumblingly, “thar's a little single bed in that shed-room thar for you—ef he'll sleep in here on the sofy.”
Jim leaped to his feet.
“What do ye think of that? Bully for the old gal! Kinder slow at first. As the poet sings of the little bed-bug, she ain't got no wings—but she gets there just the same!”
He drew the electric torch from his pocket and advanced on Nance.
“By Golly—I'll have another look at you.”
Nance backed in terror at the sight of the revolver-like instrument.
“What's that?” she gasped.
“Just a little Gatlin' gun!” he cried jokingly. He pressed the button, and the light flashed squarely in the old woman's eyes.