“Ever ride a horse?” he inquired. “Not hard, you know, with a Western saddle. You just sit in it and the horse does the rest.”
Tish looked at him through her spectacles.
“There is no argument for the Western saddle as against the English,” she said firmly. “I have used them both, Mr. Stein. One rides properly by balance, not adherence.”
Mr. Stein suddenly got out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“Would you believe it!” he muttered. “And me just happening to be in town on a little matter of alimony! Does everything! By heaven, I believe she could fill a tooth!”
He then stared again at Tish and said, “You’re not by any chance related to the Miss Carberry who captured the town of X—— from the Germans, I suppose?”
“My friends here, and I, did that; yes.”
He stared at us all without saying anything for a moment. Then he moistened his lips.
“Well, well!” he said. “Well, well! Why, we ran a shot of you, Miss Carberry, in our news feature, when you were decorated and kissed by that French general, What’s-His-Name.”
“I prefer not to recall that.”