"Some sure-enough queen," murmured Johnnie in naïve admiration, staring after her with open mouth.
Clay smiled. He had an opinion of his own on that point.
CHAPTER XI
JOHNNIE GREEN—MATCH-MAKER
Johnnie Green gave an upward jerk to the frying-pan and caught the flapjack deftly as it descended.
"Fust and last call for breakfast in the dining-cyar. Come and get it, old-timer," he sang out to Clay.
That young man emerged from his bedroom glowing. He was one or two shades of tan lighter than when he had reached the city, but the paint of Arizona's untempered sun still distinguished him from the native-born, if there are any such among the inhabitants of upper New York.
"You're one sure-enough cook," he drawled to his satellite. "Some girl will ce'tainly have a good wife when she gets you. I expect I'd better set one of these suffragette ladies on yore trail."
"Don't you, Clay," blushed Johnnie. "I ain't no ladies' man. They make me take to the tall timber when I see 'em comin'."
"That ain't hardly fair to them, and you the best flapjack artist in
Graham County."