“My name’s Bee,” he said. “B-e-e.”
“Last or first?” asked Hashknife.
“Last. Say, I better rustle some wood for that fireplace. Kinda take the chill off the air. Gosh, you fellers shore are wet.”
Honey hurried away for some wood, while Hashknife moved some of the containers to more advantageous spots. There seemed to be no end to the leaks in the HJ ranch-house.
“Terrible, isn’t it?” smiled Peggy.
It seemed to her that these two strange cowboys, even with their wet garments and muddy boots, had brought a warmth and cheer to the ranch that was sorely needed.
“Oh, not so bad,” said Hashknife, squinting at a leak. “Didja ever stop to think how much worse it would be if them few little spots were the only place where it didn’t leak?”
“That would be terrible,” declared Laura.
“Yeah, it would. But suppose it leaked everywhere. That would be worse, eh?”
“Do you always look at things that way?” asked Peggy.