“Well, why didn’t you?”
“Them’s why!” Honey flung down the offending shoes. “By ⸺, yuh can’t be pretty and smart at the same time! Folks say that brains are in yore head, but they’re not. They’re in yore feet, I tell yuh! Pinch yore feet and yuh can’t think. That’s why I had to tell the truth.”
“I suppose so,” said Laura sadly. “Perhaps it is all for the best. You better go home, Mr. Bee; you’re half undressed.”
“Half?” gasped Honey. “If anythin’ makes me let loose—I’m all undressed! Good night.”
Honey climbed into his buggy and drove back to Pinnacle City, sadder and wiser, as far as clothes were concerned. The outfit had cost him forty dollars. He sat down on the brown derby when he got into the seat, but he was too disgusted to move off it.
He turned the horse over to the stableman and went to the Pinnacle Saloon in his sock-feet, carrying his coat. Some of the men who had been at the Flying H were at the saloon, having a drink before going home. Len Kelsey, the deputy, was there. Len was a tall skinny, swarthy young man, inclined to be boastful of his own abilities.
“You seen Joe?” asked Honey.
Len shook his head.
“Mebbe we better go over and see how he’s comin’ along,” suggested Honey.
They walked over to the office and found Joe still on the bed, snoring heavily. He opened his eyes when Honey shook the bed, and looked around in a bewildered way.