“You?”
“Why, of course. It wouldn’t do to let him go unless I went, too,” said Cranny, glibly. “No siree. But think what it might do for him, dad. Willie needs to be waked up; he isn’t any use to you now—never will be if he doesn’t take a mighty big brace. And those boys ought to do him more good in a couple of weeks than everybody else put together could do in a couple of years.”
Mr. Beaumont’s face was wreathed in a broad smile.
“Your argument is very ingenious, Cranny; I see your point—you are entirely willing to assume all the worries and restrictions of guardianship for the time being, eh?”
Cranny grinned at the gentle sarcasm.
“Take my advice, sir. I’m not saying that I don’t want to go to Circle T Ranch the worst way myself; but you’ve got to do something about Willie. I’ll bet the little chap won’t talk the way he does after he’s been out with those Rambler chaps a few weeks. Now don’t say no. He’s just about the same size as Tommy Clifton, and they ought to get chummy together.”
“Clifton is a good little chap,” said Mr. Beaumont, reflectively.
“You bet he is. Gets mighty hot, though, if you say anything about his size,” chuckled Cranny.
“Say, it’s nice and warm back there in the moonlight,” came in a piping voice.
Willie Sloan suddenly appeared from behind the portico.