“It was you, Miss Impudence.”
They had reached the door, but she held him there a moment, while she laughed delightedly and hugged him. “I knew it was me. As if we'd let our old doc go, or have anything to do with a young ignoramus from Denver! Didn't you know I was joking? Of course you did.”
He still pretended severity. “Oh, I know you. When it comes to wheedling an old fool, you've got the rest of the girls in this valley beat to a fare-you-well.”
“Is that why you always loved me?” she asked, with a sparkle of mischief in her eye.
“I didn't love you. I never did. The idea!” he snorted. “I don't know what you young giddy pates are coming to. Huh! Love you!”
“I'll forgive you, even if you did,” she told him sweetly.
“That's it! That's it!” he barked. “You forgive all the young idiots when they do. And they all do—every last one of them. But I'm too old for you, young lady. Sixty-three yesterday. Huh!”
“I like you better than the younger ones.”
“Want us all, do you? Young and old alike. Well, count me out.”
He broke away, and went into the house. But there was an unconquerably youthful smile dancing in his eyes. This young lady and he had made love to each other in some such fashion ever since she had been a year old. He was a mellow and confirmed old bachelor, but he proposed to continue their innocent coquetry until he was laid away, no matter which of the young bucks of the valley had the good fortune to win her for a wife.