“You will not be plagued by my presence for long, sir,” said Tavia, making a little face at him. “This is a real good-bye visit. You’ll probably never see me again, Mr. Lance.”
“Hold on, now! Don’t say that,” cried the cowboy. “You folks will be comin’ out yere frequent. Miz White Says so.”
“Dorothy will,” replied Tavia. “But I may not. You see, I have to be specially invited to come.”
“I invite yuh right now,” said Lance, with emphasis. “Me and my old lady will be mighty glad to see yuh.”
“I can’t promise,” Tavia said.
“Let a feller hear from yuh,” urged Lance, devouring her piquant face with his bold eyes.
“Oh, yes! we’ll write Mrs. Petterby,” agreed Tavia.
“You will surely hear from us,” interposed Dorothy, before Lance could say any more. “And we’ll hear about you, too. Mr. Lance, you have been very kind to us all and we never shall forget you.”
She shook hands with the cowboy and then hastened Tavia into the saddle again. Lance evidently wished them to linger and tried to keep Tavia engaged in conversation.
Slily Dorothy touched the flank of Tavia’s pony with her heel. The nervous little beast sprang away—almost unseating its rider; but the movement broke up any “private confab” between her chum and the cowpuncher.