But Sandy's expression was simply the outcome of long and difficult consideration. As a matter of fact, in his hard way, he was feeling very delighted. His past married experience had brought him to the conviction that here was the only person in Suffering Creek who could help him. And, furthermore, he was well satisfied to think that only his experience as a married man could have suggested to him this means of gaining the information required by their president, and so shown him the way to surpass his comrades in his efforts on behalf of the Trust. But his knowledge of womankind warned him that he must not be too hasty. He must not show his hand until he had established himself in a favorable position in the susceptible Birdie's heart. With this object in view he set himself to offer his blandishments in characteristic fashion. He did not suffer from Toby's complaint of bashfulness. Married life had cured him of that. In consequence, his method, if crude, was direct. "I can't say the same of you, Birdie," he declared unsmilingly. "You're bloomin' as--as a kebbige." "Kebbige?" sniffed the girl. "Kebbige, sure," nodded the man of married experience. "Guess mebbe it ain't a bokay fer smell. But fer taste--with corned beef? Gee!" Birdie took no umbrage. "You got to it--after awhiles," she remarked slyly. Then she added, with a gush, "D'you know, I'm allus most scared to death of you men. You're that big an' strong, it makes me feel you could well-nigh eat me." Sandy availed himself of the invitation. "A tasty mouthful," he declared. And without more ado he passed round the table, caught her quickly in his arms, and, without the smallest expression of interest, kissed her. If interest were lacking, his movements were so swift that, had the girl the least idea of avoiding the embrace--which she hadn't--she would have found it difficult to do so. "You men are ones!" she declared, with a little gasp, as his arms fell from about her. "How's that?" "I never did--the cheek of some of you!" "A feller needs cheek," replied the self-satisfied widower. "'Specially with pretty gals around," he added condescendingly. Birdie eyed him archly. "Gals?" she inquired. "I should have said 'gal.'" The laughing nod that rewarded him assured Sandy that he was well on the right track, and at once he took the opportunity of introducing the object of his visit. "Say," he began, "guess you never tho't o' gettin' hitched up to a feller?" Birdie lowered her eyelids and struggled for a blush, which somehow defied her best efforts. But her subtleties were quite lost upon Sandy, and in his eagerness he waited for no reply.