But Andy shook his head unsmilingly.
“I just can’t stop around, little kid,” he said quietly, his eyes still on the team with its queer burden.
“Why?”
Molly was disappointed, and her disappointment found expression in her monosyllable.
Andy shrugged. Then he moved over to his horse and busied himself at the cinchas of his “condemned” police saddle. He spoke over his shoulder.
“No, sweetheart,” he said quietly, but decidedly. “It’s no use. I got to get right back to work. If I stop around to eat the day’ll be gone before I make home, and ther’s the—seeding. Besides——”
“Yes?”
Andy indicated the choreman who was crossing the open towards them. Then, quite abruptly, he turned from his saddle and held out his hand in farewell. He was smiling, and his smile told Molly that his action was for the benefit of the man who was observing them as he came.
“No,” he said, in a tone intended for Lightning’s ears. “I won’t stop around to eat. You see, I just got along to fix things with you, and tell you I’d got the tickets for the dance. There’s a week. Just a week for you to fix your party frock in. You’ll fix it good, eh?” he laughed. “You see, we hill folks need to show the town dames. I fancy you being a real show-up to ’em.”
He had swung into the saddle, and Molly laughed happily. He had said the one thing that gave her the opportunity she needed. In spite of her feelings and emotions of the moment the memory of Blanche’s visit, Blanche, with wonderful generosity for all she was a stranger, still stood out in her mind a matter of tremendous moment. Her femininity was abounding. Nothing in the world, it seemed, was left that could add one tittle to her happiness.