“You—sent for your aunt?”
In a moment the whole hideous position of the Padre came upon him, smothering all his own personal feelings, all his pleasure, all his doubts and fears.
“Why—yes.” Joan’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Have I done wrong? He said, send for her.”
Buck shook his head and moved out of the stall.
“You sure done dead right. The Padre said it.”
“Then what was the meaning in your—what you said?”
Buck smiled.
“Nothing—just nothing.”
Joan eyed him a moment in some doubt. Then she passed the matter over, and again the pleasure at his coming shone forth.
“Oh, Buck,” she cried, “there are some mean people in the world. I’ve been talking to that horror, Beasley. He is a horror, isn’t he? He’s been telling me something of the talk of the camp. He’s been telling me how—how popular I am,” she finished up with a mirthless laugh.