ntered. "It's good for you to have your bad days--with me."

"Well, maybe you're right. You're 'most always right; but gosh! a feller
does like a little encouragement once in a while. You can be so cruel,
Angy!"

"Can I? If you think not waving to you is cruelty, you ought to see some of
my other forms of torture."

"Ugh! I hope I never do!" He drank again from the cup.

"Say," Angela said, watching him, "you seem to like that coffee a lot more
than you like me! That brunette in the cup is my rival!"

He looked at her in blank amazement. He hadn't much sense of humor. He was
as literal-minded as a child. "You certainly are the funniest girl, Angy!"
he said, "How could coffee be a girl's rival?"

"Easier than a fellow in Bisbee--maybe. Better look out, 'Red,' or I'll sue
Mrs. Quinn for alienation of affections!"

"Oh, you wouldn't do that!" said the kindly, honest "Red."

"What a stupid you are, to be sure!" said Angela, and laughed. "There--eat
these hot cakes--though how you can on this beastly warm morning is more
than I can see--and then play me some tunes. I'm dying to hear some music.
This afternoon Dad says he's going over to your ranch. I don't know what
for, do you? I do wish people didn't have to lose their property. Why are
mortgages, anyhow?"

"Blamed if _I_ know, Angy! Thanks, Mrs. Quinn."

"Sure, an' you're welcome, me boy." Angela had gone out on the step. The
old Irishwoman saw her chance. "For the love o' Mike, 'Red,' woo her, an'
woo her hard! There _is_ a feller in Bisbee. She's after lovin' ye, but
you're too slow--slower'n the molasses I just poured on yer griddle-cakes
fer ye!"

"I'll try," said the accommodating "Red." "You're a good friend, Mrs.
Quinn. I won't forget you when I own this place!"

"Be off, now! Ye've got some travelin' to do before ye're able to win
Angela. Then ye can think of buyin' a ranch."

She literally pushed him from her domain; and he found himself by Angela's
side out of doors.

The bright sunlight touched her hair, and they went over to a pergola she
had had built, covered with vines. A little fountain tinkled near it, and
the heat of the day would not bother them here.

For three delirious hours, "Red" was alone with Angela. One moment she
pouted, the next she let him touch her hand.

"You may be going away soon, 'Red.' Will you write to me if you do?"

"Will I?" he cried, "Every day--a postal-card at least. I ain't much at
letters.... But I'm not so