“Aw, cut out the spoons! I’m going to hustle home and break the news to fa-ather! Let ’er go, bronc! Let ’er fly! Let ’er fly!”
They smiled after the vanishing boy, smiled into each other’s faces and smiled at the sunshine and the gilded hills, now shining in the full light of the marvellous Alberta sun. After a moment, shyly, despite the fact that she was held closely to him:
“What’s your real name?”
“Edward Eaton Charlesmore of Macclesfield and Coventry.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“N-no, I’m not, darling. That’s my real name.”
Hilda smiled delightedly.
“But what do they call you?”
He laughed, squeezed her tightly, kissed her and then kissed her again.
“Cheerio!” he said.