ospect." He was trying to match her mood
and he was not at all sure that he was a success. "There's one
thing. If yuh get tired uh having me under your feet all the time,
why--Dilly's a stranger and an awful fine fellow; I'd like to have
you--well, be kinda nice to him. I want him to have a good time, you
see, and you'll like him. You can't help it. And it will square up
anything yuh may feel yuh might owe me--"

"I'll be just lovely to Dilly," Miss Bridger promised him with
emphasis. "It will be a fair bargain, then, and I won't feel so--so
small about asking you what I did. You can help me play a little joke,
and I'll dance with Duly. So," she finished in a tone of satisfaction,
"we'll be even. I feel a great deal better now, because I can pay you
back."

Billy, on that night, was more keenly observant than usual and there
was much that he saw. He saw at once that Miss Bridger lifted her
eyebrows in the way she had demonstrated as _this way_, whenever the
Pilgrim approached her. He saw that the Pilgrim was looking extremely
bloodthirsty and went out frequently--Billy guessed shrewdly that his
steps led to where the drink was not water--and the sight cheered
him considerably. Yet it hurt him a little to observe that, when the
Pilgrim was absent or showed no sign of meaning to intrude upon her,
Miss Bridger did not lift her eyebrows consciously. Still, she was at
all times pleasant and friendly and he tried to be content.

"Mr. Boyle, you've been awfully good," she rewarded him when it
was over. "And I think Mr. Dill is fine! Do you know, he waltzes
beautifully. I'm sure it was easy to keep _my_ side of the bargain."

Billy noticed the slight, inquiring emphasis upon the word _my_, and
he smiled down reassuringly into her face. "Uh course mine was pretty
hard," he teased, "but I hope I made good, all right."

"You," she said, looking steadily up at him, "are just exactly what I
said you were. You are comfortable."

Billy did a good deal of thinking while he saddled Barney in the gray
of the morning, with Dill at a little distance, looking taller than
ever in the half light. When he gave the saddle its final, little
tentative shake and pulled the stirrup around so that he could stick
in his toe, he gave also a snort of dissatisfaction.

"Hell!" he said to himself. "I don't know as I care about being too
_blame_ comfortable. There's a limit to that kinda thing--with _her!_"

"What's that?" called Dill, who had he