_Spring Lamb_ Mrs. Adams had decided to have roast spring lamb for dinner that evening. Instead, her guests had to content themselves with canned salmon and hot biscuit. And because ... Lorry appeared at the breakfast table in overalls and jumper. He had purposely waited until the Westons had gone downstairs. He anticipated an invitation to ride to the hills with them. He would decline, and smile as he did so. If that girl thought he cared anything about _her_! He answered their greeting with a cheery "Good-mornin'," and immediately turned his whole attention to bacon and eggs. Alice Weston wondered that his eyes should be so clear and care-free, knowing what she did of last night's escapade. Mrs. Adams was interested in the girl's riding-habit. It made her own plain riding-skirt and blouse appear rather countrified. And after breakfast Lorry watched the preparations for the ride with a critical eye. No one would know whether or not he cared to go. They seemed to have taken it for granted that he would. He whistled softly, and shook his head as his mother suggested that he get ready. "Of course you're coming with us," said Alice Weston. "I got to look after the hotel," he said with conclusive emphasis. Lorry disappeared, and in the bustle of preparation and departure Mrs. Adams did not miss him until they were some distance out on the mesa. "Where's Lorry?" she queried. "He said he had to look after the hotel," said Alice Weston. "Well, he didn't. I had everything arranged for. I don't know what's got into him lately." Back at the hotel Lorry was leaning against the veranda rail, talking to Mrs. Weston. "I reckon it will be kind of tame for you, ma'am. I was wondering, now, if you would let me look over that machine. I've helped fix 'em up lots of times." "Why, I don't know. It wouldn't do any harm to look, would it?" "I guess not." Mrs. Weston gazed at Lorry curiously. He had smiled, and he resembled Waring so closely that Mrs. Weston remarked it aloud. Lorry flushed. "I think Mr. Waring is a right good-lookin' man, don't you?" Mrs. Weston laughed. "Yes, I do." "Yes, ma'am. But honest, Mrs. Weston, I never did see a finer-lookin' girl than your girl. I seen plenty of magazine pictures like her. I'd feel some proud if I was her mother." The morning was not so dull, after all. Mrs. Weston was not used to such frankness, but she was not displeased. "I see you have on your working clothes. If you really think you can repair the car--" "I got nothin' else to do. The sun is gettin' round to the front. If you would like to sit in the car and watch, I would look her over; there, in the shade." "I'll get a hat," said Mrs. Weston, rising. "Your hair is right pretty without a hat. And besides you would be in the shade of the top." It had been some time since any one had complimented Mrs. Weston about her hair, and especially a man young enough to be her son. What was the cowboy going to say next?