Toby shook his head all unsuspiciously.
“No sech luck,” he asserted. Then with a sudden burst of gallantry, “If I had I don’t guess there’d be no Birdie Mason chasin’ around these parts unbespoke.”
The girl’s eyes developed an almost childish simplicity as they looked up into his foolish face.
“What d’you mean?”
“Mean? Why, jest nothin’, only––”
Toby laughed uneasily. And a shadow crossed Birdie’s face.
“I don’t guess the patch o’ pay dirt matters a heap,” she said, with subtle encouragement.
“That’s so,” agreed Toby.
“Y’see, a gal don’t marry a feller fer his patch o’ pay dirt,” she went on, doing her best.
“Sure she don’t.”