Jap smiled wearily. "I am not hunting a saloon for Bloomtown," he said, and turned toward the door in time to bump into Isabel Granger, her arms full of bundles. She blushed and dimpled prettily.
"I am looking for my papa," she cried, pinching Tom's cheek with her one free hand. "I want you to carry these packages for me."
"Run along, pet. I'm busy."
"You look it," she reproved. "I simply can't carry all these things. My arm is almost broken now, and the dressmaker has to have them."
"Jap will tote them for you," chuckled Tom, watching the blood rush over Jap's sensitive face. To his surprise, Jap took the bundles and walked out with Isabel. He looked after them approvingly.
"Now there goes the likeliest boy in the state," he declared. "It's plumb funny the way he's got of getting right next to your marrow bones. I wish I had a boy like him."
"No great matter," drawled Bill, with tantalizing indefiniteness.
Tom looked up at him quizzically, as he picked absently at the pile of exchanges. Something in the young man's tone piqued him.
"If Jap wasn't so all-fired conscientious," Bill blurted, "you'd have a son, in quick order."
"Lord!" exploded Tom. "Dunderhead that I am!" He slapped his thigh, and a great, joyous laugh set his shoulders to heaving. "Bill, you're a genius for spying out mysteries. How did you get on to it?"