When Claire and her father came along in the Gomez, Milt was standing by the road. She stopped. She smiled. "Night of sadness and regrets? You were fairly rude, Milt. So was Mr. Saxton, but I've lectured him, and he sends his apologies."
"I send him mine—'deed I do," said Milt gravely.
"Then everything's all right. I'm sure we were all tired. We'll just forget it."
"Morning, Daggett," Mr. Boltwood put in. "Hope you lose that dreadful red-headed person."
"No, I can't, Mr. Boltwood. When Mr. Saxton turned on me, I swore I'd take Pinky clear through to Blewett Pass ... though not to Seattle, by golly!"
"Foolish oaths should be broken," Claire platitudinized.
"Claire—look—— You don't really care so terribly much about these little luxuries, food and fixin's and six-dollar-a-day-hotel junk, do you?"
"Yes," stoutly, "I do."
"But not compared with mountains and——"
"Oh, it's all very well to talk, and be so superior about these dear old grandeurs of Nature, and the heroism of pioneers, and I do like a glimpse of them. But the niceties of life do mean something and even if it is weak and dependent, I shall always simply adore them!"