“The boss brought a woman back with him this time,” sez Dixon.
“What!” sez I. “You don’t mean ta tell me ’at Ty Jones has got him a woman after all these years?”
“That’s what,” sez Dixon. “Somethin’ queer about her, too. Ty has had a new shack built for her up back o’ the old house. They don’t seem overly friendly for a bride an’ groom.”
“Ain’t nothin’ overly friendly with Ty, is the’?” sez I.
“Oh, I dunno,” sez he. “Ty ain’t as sticky as taffy, but he’s a mighty good man to work for.”
“What sort of a woman did he get?” sez I.
“She don’t show herself much,” sez he. “She’s tall an’ shapely, an’ right smart younger ’n Ty; but she spends most of her time in the new shack; and from all we can tell, she’s froze up tighter ’n Ty is.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to jog on. Good luck,” sez I, and me an’ the Friar rode on. He was as much beat out over Ty Jones gettin’ a woman as I was; but first thing he thought of was, ’at this might have a softenin’ effect on Ty, an’ give him an openin’.
We reached Olaf’s in time for supper, and found Kit bustlin’ about as happy as a little brown hen. The Friar hadn’t sprung it none about the kid. He was a solid little chunk with a couple o’ dimples and all the signs o’ health. I looked careful into his eyes. They were full o’ devilment, an’ he scowled his brows down over ’em when I held him; but they were brown like Kit’s.
“Oh, he’s too dirty to touch,” sez Kit, beamin’ all over with pride. “I just can’t keep him clean, try as I will.”