The girl hastily interrupted. She had not feared for herself, but she knew fear for the indomitable man she had nursed back to life. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Bannister? Since you don’t approve our literature, perhaps we can find some other diversion more to your taste.” She smiled faintly.
The man turned in smiling divination of her purpose, and sat down to play with her as a cat does with a mouse.
“Thank y’u, Miss Messiter, I believe I will. I called to thank y’u for your kindness to my cousin as well as to inquire about you. The word goes that y’u pulled my dear cousin back when death was reaching mighty strong for him. Of course I feel grateful to y’u. How is he getting along now?”
“He’s doing very well, I think.”
“That’s ce’tainly good hearing,” was his ironical response. “How come he to get hurt, did y’u say?”
His sleek smile was a thing hateful to see.
“A hound bit me,” explained the sheepman.
“Y’u don’t say! I reckon y’u oughtn’t to have got in its way. Did y’u kill it?”
“Not yet.”
“That was surely a mistake, for it’s liable to bite again.”