It surprised Hazel Walton, surprised her so that she jerked around to the front, "kissed" to the mules and drove away without a word.
Billy stood quite still in the middle of Main Street, with his hat off, and looked after her a moment. Then he pulled on the hat with a jerk and returned to his packing case.
"What did she say to you?" Riley wanted to know.
"None of your business," was the ungracious reply.
"She left you sort of sudden," persisted Riley. "And why did you stand still in the middle of the street and look after her so forlorn and long?"
"I wasn't lookin' more than ten seconds," denied Billy, jarred off his balance for once in his life.
"Shucks, I had time to roll a cigarette, and smoke it to the butt while you stood there nailed to the earth. Yeah. Tell you, Bill, you don't wanna let your feelings give you away so much. Bad business that is. Somebody's bound to pick your pocket forty ways. Y'oughta play poker more. That would teach you self-control."
"Bluh," grunted Billy. "Think you're smart, don't you?"
"I know I am," returned Riley, crossing one knee over the other and diddling his foot up and down to the thin accompaniment of a tinkling spur-rowel. "I got eyes, I have. I can see through a piece of glass most generally. Oh, mush and milk, love's young dream, and when shall we meet again."
"Aw, hell, shut up!" urged Billy, and shoved his friend off the packing case and went elsewhere hastily.