“Well, mine ain’t the only mind that has to be made up,” he drawled.
She took this up gleefully. “I can’t answer for Nora, but I’ll jump at the chance—if you decide to give it to me.”
He laughed delightedly into the hat he was momentarily expecting to put on. “I’ll mill it over a spell and let y’u know, ma’am.”
“Yes, think it over from all points of view. Of course she is prettier, but then I’m not afflicted with rheumatism and probably wouldn’t flirt as much afterward. I have a good temper, too, as a rule, but then so has Nora.”
“Oh, she’s prettier, is she?” With boyish audacity he grinned at her.
“What do you think?”
He shook his head. “I’ll have to go to the foot of the class on that, ma’am. Give me an easier one.”
“I’ll have to choose another subject then. What did you do about that bunch of Circle 66 cows you looked at on your way in?”
They discussed business for a few minutes, after which she went back to her patient and he to his work.
“Ain’t she a straight-up little gentleman for fair?” the foreman asked himself in rhetorical and exuberant question, slapping his hat against his leg as he strode toward the corral. “Think of her coming at me like she did, the blamed little thoroughbred. Y’u bet she knows me down to the ground and how sudden I got over any fool notions I might a-started to get in my cocoanut. But the way she came back at me, quick as lightning and then some, pretendin’ all that foolishness and knowin’ all the time I’d savez the game.”