But Ramona noticed from the background that as soon as she and her aunt retired from the scene his embarrassment vanished. This slim, brown young man was quite at his ease with Clint Wadley, much more so than young Ridley. He was essentially a man's man, and his young hostess liked him none the less for that.
She made a chance to talk with him alone after supper. They were standing in the parlor near the window. Ramona pressed the end of her little finger against a hole in the pane.
"I wonder if you'd like me to sing 'Swanee River' for you, Mr. Roberts?" she asked.
He did not mind being teased. By this time he had regained his confidence. He had discovered that she would not bite even though she might laugh at him in a friendly way.
"You sing it fine," he said.
"I wasn't singing it for you the other time, but for Mr.—what's-his-name, Gurley?"
"I couldn't very well have you keep shoutin' out, 'I'm a girl,' so I figured—?"
"I know what you figured, sir. You wanted to take all the chances that were taken. Father says it was the quickest-witted thing he ever knew." She shot another dart at him, to his confusion. "Do you like my voice?"
"Well, ma'am, I—"
"You don't have to tell any stories. I see you don't."