"Yas," he answers; "I pulled the rags outen the windas, and put some panes of glass in----" "_Good_ fer you, Bergin! But, thunder! the idear of her thinkin' she can raise chickens fer a livin'--'way out here. Why, a grasshopper ranch ain't _no_ place fer that little woman." (And I watched sideways to see how he'd take it.) "You're right, Cupid," he says. Then, after swallerin' hard, "Did you happen t' notice how soft and kinda pinky her hands is?" Was that the _sheriff_ talkin'? Wal, you could 'a' knocked me down with a feather! "Yas, Sheriff," I answers, "I noticed her pretty par_tic_ular. And it strikes me that we needn't to worry--she won't stay on that ranch _long_. Out here in Oklahomaw, _any_ widda is in line fer another husband if she'll take one. In Mrs. Bridger's case, it won't be just any ole hobo that comes along. She'll be able to pick and choose from a grea-a-at, bi-i-ig bunch. _I_ seen how the boys acted when she got offen that train t'-day--and I knowed then that it wouldn't be _no_ time till she'd marry." The sheriff is tall, as I said afore. Wal, a kinda shiver went up and down the hull length of him. Then, he sprung up, givin' the truck a kick. "Marry! marry! marry!" he begun, grindin' his teeth t'gether. "Cain't you talk nothin' _else_ but marry?" "No-o-ow, Bergin," I says, "what diff'rence does it make t' _you?_ S'pose she marries, and s'pose she don't. _You_ don't give a bean. Wal, _I_ look at it diff'rent. _I_ know that nice little kid of hern needs the keer of a father--yas, Bergin, the keer of a _father._" And I looked him square in the eye. "It's _just_ like Hairoil says," he went on. "If Doc Simpson was t' use a spy-glass on _you,_ he'd find you plumb alive with _bugs_--_marryin'_ bugs. _Yas,_ sir. With you, it's a _disease._" "_Wal,_" I answers, "don't git anxious that it's ketchin'. You? Huh! If I had anythin' _agin_ the widda, I _might_ be a-figgerin' on how t' hitch her up t' _you_--you ole _woman-hater!_" "The best thing _you_ can do, Mister Cupid," growls Bergin (with a few cuss words throwed in), "is to _mind-you'-own-business._" "All right," I answers cheerful. "_I_ heerd y'. But, I never could see why you fellers are so down on me when I _ad_vise marryin'. Take my word fer it, Sheriff, _any_ man's a heap better off with a nice wife to look after his shack, and keep it slicked up, and a nice baby 'r two t' pull his whiskers, and I reckon----" But Bergin was makin' fer the freight shed, two-forty. When I tole Mace what'd passed 'twixt me and the sheriff, she says, "Alec, leave him alone fer a while, and mebbe he'll look _you_ up. In love affairs, don't never try t' drive _nobody._" "But ain't it funny," I says (it was lodge night, and we had the porch to ourselves), "--ain't it funny how dead set some fellers is agin marryin'--the blamed fools! Y' see, they think that if they _don't_ hitch up t' some sweet gal, why, they git ahaid of somebody. It makes me plumb sick!"