"Indiana!"
"That's only young blood, mother. You can't expect her to be the same as we old-timers." He glanced slyly at Mrs. Bunker, who poked him with her needle.
"I was on the war path," said Indiana. "If I hadn't gone out with Circus, I—I—well, you'd have just scattered, that's all."
"Bet yer life," chuckled Stillwater.
"Is my dress finished?" asked Indiana, burying her face in the pink and white folds on Mrs. Stillwater's lap.
"Just a stitch or two more, dear. I've been working on it all morning."
"It looks so nice and cool. I want to put it on."
"So you shall, dear," said Mrs. Stillwater, in the tone one uses to a fractious baby.
"Just leave my hair alone, Glen," exclaimed Indiana, turning suddenly around on him, with flashing eyes.
"All right, Indiana," he said, meekly.