"How is the little feller?" he asked.
"He has to stay in a barrel till his duds dries out," said Bill. "He furgot to hang his clothes on the hickory-nut limb."
"I've had the time of my life, listening to Bill. He knows more good stories than anybody in the world."
"Listen at her! She's stringin' ye, Mr. Trent." He strode off to take in the clothes, big with pride.
"Think you'll take cold?" asked Paul.
"Cold? The only way a cold could get me would be to bite me. I'm the wellest thing on earth."
"Broadway won't know you, you're so brown," he commented, looking down at her.
"Broadway? What's that?"
"A state of mind," he laughed.
The days slid by with incredible swiftness. They extended their holiday twice to please Bill, who insisted on some special expeditions. A descent upon the cabin in the valley found a pile of mail awaiting them.