"Say sixty-one."
"He's forty-one, if you must know," Hazel said.
"I knew it was getting serious," mourned Billy. "They're exchanging birthdays. We'll have to find us a new girl, Riley."
"Not me. I'm satisfied. I'll stick to the last shout and a li'l beyond. Hazel's only fooling these other fellers. I'll make her the best husband in four counties, and she's the girl that knows it. Don't you, Hazel?"
"I'm not that hard up," replied the girl, with a smile that belied the harshness of her words.
"There, you hear?" chuckled Billy. "Now you'll be good, I guess."
"If you won't have me for the twenty-fourth time hand-running, why not take Bill here? He's a good feller, don't drink much, and he's got a heart of gold and a brand of his own—six horses and one calf at the last round-up. Besides, if all that ain't enough, he's gonna be our next sheriff. What more could a girl want?"
"She'd want him to ask her first," said Hazel, not a whit put out.
Riley turned to Billy in mock surprise. "Ain't you asked her yet, Bill? Shucks, whatsa matter with you? You make me sick, and she don't like it either. G'on—propose. I'm with you. We all are. And she expects it, can't you see? G'on, Tommy Tucker, sing for your supper."
But Tommy Tucker firmly refused to sing. Instead he seized the jibing Mr. Tyler by the ankle and skidded him off the step.