As they came out of the restaurant they met Mrs. Wesson and Della Miller. Harp stood stock-still and wished himself miles away, because at a glance he knew that Mrs. Wesson had told the school-teacher all about it. “Hello, Brickie,” greeted Mrs. Wesson. “Hello, folks,” grinned Brick. Mrs. Wesson squinted at Harp, frowned heavily, as though trying to remember him. Then: “By golly, that’s Harp Harris, ain’t it?” “Yeah,” nodded Brick, “this is Harp himself. You’ve met these ladies, ain’t yuh, Harp?” Harp grunted something unintelligible. “Wouldn’t hardly knowed him,” declared Mrs. Wesson. “Yuh see, I ain’t used to seein’ him in daylight.” She turned to Miss Miller— “This is Mister Harris, Miss Miller.” “Aw-w-w, dog-gone it, I’ve met yuh and—and I—I—” Harp stammered to a stop, his face red. “I think I have met Mr. Harris,” smiled the school-teacher. “That’s right!” exclaimed Mrs. Wesson. “Come to think of it, yuh have. Why don’t you boys come over and see us once in a while? We like company. Come over any evenin’. Harp can bring his music along and entertain us.” “Oh, do you play, Mr. Harris?” asked Miss Miller. “Does he play?” Mrs. Wesson seemed surprised that the girl should ask such a question. “Does he? He not only plays, but he sings. Sings and plays his own accompaniment on a jew’s-harp. Writes his own stuff, too, don’tcha, Harp?” “Aw-w-w, for gosh sake!” Harp swallowed heavily and looked around for a place to put his hands. “Well, we must be going along,” said Mrs. Wesson. “Pleased to have seen you in daylight, Harp. Come and see us, won’t yuh?” “Sure be pleased to,” grinned Brick. The two ladies went on down the street and Harp heaved a sigh of relief. “Now,” said Brick grinning, “what happened, Harp?” “Aw, ——!” Harp shoved his hands deep in his pockets and glared at the sidewalk. “I forgot what time it was, Brick; and like a ——ed fool, I—I——” “You tried to serenade Miss Miller, eh?” “Yeah. She wasn’t home either. I woke up Cale and his wife.” “My ——! Didja sing?” “Yeah.” “Uh-huh. Where was Miss Miller?” “She went to a dance at Silverton, with Sam Leach.” “Tha’sso? With Sam Leach, eh? Well, don’t let that worry yuh. She’ll soon find out that he can’t neither sing nor play.” “Brick,” Harp’s voice was strained, “are you tryin’ to be funny?” “Not intentionally, cowboy. Miss Miller is educated and she’s bound to recognize talent. I could tell by the way she was lookin’ at yuh that she admires yuh a heap. In fact, she had tears in her eyes. By golly, that’s appreciation. And she ain’t even heard yuh yet.” “Yeah, I know all about them tears,” snorted Harp. “Mrs. Wesson told her what happened.” “Well,” hopefully, “mebbe they was tears of sympathy, Harp.” “Like ——! I suppose I’ll never hear the last of this. What do we do today, Brick?”