Though she was smiling at him with her lips, it came to him that his words were being warped to a wrong meaning.
“No, I don't,” he retorted bluntly.
“As I remember it, I was bawling every chance I got yesterday and the day before,” she recalled, with fine contempt of herself.
“Oh, well! You had reason a-plenty. And sometimes a woman cries just like a man cusses. It don't mean anything. I once knew a woman wet her handkerchief to a sop crying because her husband forgot one mo'ning to kiss her good-by. She quit irrigating to run into a burning house after a neighbor's kids.”
“I accept your apology for my behavior if you'll promise I won't do it again,” she laughed. “But tell me more about Miss Fraser. Does she live here?”
For a moment he was puzzled. “Miss Fraser! Oh! She gave up that name several years ago. Mrs. Collins they call her. And say, you ought to see her kiddies. You'd fall in love with them sure.”
The girl covered her mistake promptly with a little laugh. It would never do for him to know she had been yielding to incipient jealousy. “Why can't I know them? I want to meet her too.”
The door opened and a curly head was thrust in. “Dining-room closes for breakfast at nine. My clock says it's ten-thirty now. Pretty near work to keep eating that long, ain't it? And this Sunday, too! I'll have you put in the calaboose for breaking the Sabbath.”
“We're only bending it,” grinned Neill. “Good mo'ning, Lieutenant. How is Mrs. Collins, and the pickaninnies?”
“First rate. Waiting in the parlor to be introduced to Miss Kinney.”