"You beautifulest of old sinners, how about Rose?"
He jerked himself free and pushed away from her with a screeching of the new chair's casters.
"Thunder!" he gasped. "Don't you ever think that!"
"Sure you're not fooling!" she demanded, amused at the look of horror in his face.
He drew out his handkerchief and mopped his face. His manner was that of a man who, having heard bad news, has just been assured of its falsity.
"I guess," he said, "if I was fool enough—at my age—Rose wouldn't be. I've got along so far, and I guess I can pull through."
"Then," said Phil cheerfully, "we'll pull through together! This marriage business doesn't look good to me!"
"Thunder!" He looked at her narrowly. "I wish to the Lord I could keep you."
"Watch me! You know we're going abroad next summer to see mamma; that's a date. I guess you'll keep me all right enough until you get tired of me, or I break the bank! But why chat we here? Let's set the gasoline alight and ho for the well-hoed fields of corn!"