y.

When he went into the house he saw that Flora had her hair done in a
new way that was extremely pretty, and that she had on a soft, white
silk shirt-waist with lots of lace zigzagged across--a waist hitherto
kept sacred to dances and other glorious occasions--and a soft, pink
bow pinned in her hair; all these things he mentally connected with
the visit of the Pilgrim. When he turned to see a malicious light in
the round, blue eyes of Mama Joy and a spiteful satisfaction in her
very dimples, it suddenly occurred to him that he would certainly have
something to say to Miss Flora. It was no comfort to know that all
winter the Pilgrim had not been near, because all winter he had been
away somewhere--rumor had it that he spent his winters in Iowa. Like
the birds, he always returned with the spring.

Billy never suspected that Mama Joy read his face and left them
purposely together after supper, though he was surprised when she
arose from the table and said:

"Flora, you make Billy help you with the dishes. I've got a headache
and I'm going to lie down."

At any rate, it gave him the opportunity he wanted.

"Are yuh going to let the Pilgrim hang around here this summer?" he
demanded in his straight-from-the-shoulder fashion while he was drying
the first cup.

"You mean Mr. Walland? I didn't know he ever 'hung around'." Flora was
not meek, and Billy realized that, as he put it mentally, he had his
work cut out for him to pull through without a quarrel.

"I mean the Pilgrim. And I call it hanging around when a fellow keeps
running to see a girl that's got a loop on her already. I don't want
to lay down the law to yuh, Girlie, but that blamed Siwash has got to
keep away from here. He ain't fit for yuh to speak to--and I'd a told
yuh before, only I didn't have any right--"

"Are you sure you have a right now?" The tone of Flora was sweet and
calm and patient. "I'll tell you one thing, Charming Billy Boyle, Mr.
Walland has never spoken one word against _you_. He--he _likes_ you,
and I don't think it's nice for you--"

"Likes me! Like hell he does!" snorted Billy, not bothering to choose
nice words. "He'd plug me in the back like an Injun if he thought
he could get off with it. I remember him when I hazed him away from
line-camp, the morning after you stayed there, he promised faithful to
kill me. Uh course, he won't, because he's afraid, but--I don't reckon
yuh can call it liking--"

"_Why_ did you 'haze him away,