Tavia was talking “nineteen to the dozen,” as Nat disgustedly said; “and the use she’s making of her eyes is a shame!” he added, in an aside, to Dorothy. But Dorothy could not stop her chum. The reckless girl had “taken the bit in her teeth.”
Lance was fairly bowled over by the batteries of Tavia’s speech and glances. After all, to the unsophisticated cowboy, Tavia was quite a grown-up young lady. Dorothy knew that if he lost his head it would not be his fault, but her chum’s.
“I’m ashamed of you, Tavia Travers,” she whispered, fiercely, in the black-eyed girl’s ear. “How dare you? If Aunt Winnie was up here with us now she’d put a stop to this, young lady.”
“Oh, Doro! you’re just killing!” cried Tavia, wickedly, and giggled, and bridled, just as though her friend had said something very funny to her. After that Dorothy held her peace grimly.
She was glad that Lance was going no further with them than Nicholson’s place. There he and Mrs. Petterby were to stay for a day or two before going on to the headquarters of the Double Chain Outfit, where Lance worked.
Mrs. White invited them both to come over to Hardin’s, where she decided that she and the young folk would remain for six weeks, at least. She was especially gracious to Lance, and thanked him again for his kindness to the two girls when they had been left behind by the train; she might not have asked him so cordially to visit Hardin’s had she known how Tavia had been acting.
“We sartain sure’ll come to see ye,” Mrs. Petterby said, briskly, “pervidin’ Lance kin find something a mite more steady for me to ride in. I shall want to see ye all again before I start back East.”
“Oh, yuh won’t want tuh start back yet awhile, mother,” drawled Lance.
“I dunno,” said Mrs. Petterby. “I ain’t seen nothin’ yet in Colorado the ekal of Rand’s Falls, Massachusetts.”
“We’ll fix that,” grunted Lance, waving his hat again, as the old coach lumbered away along the track.