nowed how to talk French, and
that made old man Bouquet extra obliging--and he set up a rattling
good dinner and fetched out some of the wine he said he was in the
habit of keeping for his own drinking, seeing he'd got somebody in the
house for once who really could tell the difference between good and
bad. He fixed up a table out in the garden--aside of that queer tree,
all growed together, he thought so much of--and set down with 'em
himself; and Hill said it was one of the pleasantest parties he'd ever
been at in all his born days.

The Hen and the old gent got friendlier and friendlier--she being more
cheerful when she'd been setting at table a while, and getting to
talking so comical she kept 'em all on a full laugh. Now and then,
though, she'd pull up sudden and kind of back away--making out she
didn't want it to show so much--and get her pocket-handkerchief to her
eyes and snuffle; and then she'd pull herself together sort of
conspicuous, and say she didn't want to spoil the party, but she
couldn't help thinking how long it was likely to be before she'd see
her little boy. And then the old gent would say that such tender
motherliness did her credit, and hers was a sweet nature, and he'd
hold her hand till she took it away.

Hill said the time passed so pleasant he forgot how it was going, and
when he happened to think to look at his watch he found he'd have to
everlastingly hustle his mules to get over to Palomitas in time to
ketch the Denver train. He went off in a tearing hurry to hitch up,
and old man Bouquet went along to help him--the old gent saying he
guessed he and Mrs. Chiswick would stay setting where they was, it
being cool and comfortable in the garden, till the team was put to.
They set so solid, Hill said, they didn't hear him when he sung out to
'em he was ready; and he said he let his mouth go wide open and yelled
like hell. (Hill always talked that careless way. He didn't mean no
harm by it. He said it was just a habit he'd got into driving mules.)
They not coming, he went to hurry 'em, he said--and as he come up
behind 'em the Hen was stuffing something into her frock, and the old
gent was saying: "I want you to get quickly to your dear infant, my
daughter. You can return at your convenience my trifling loan. And now
I will give you a fatherly kiss--"

But he didn't, Hill said--because the Hen heard Hill's boots on the
gravel and faced round so quick she spoiled his chance. He seemed a
littl