Still, Myra ain't one you'd snuggle up to casual, or expect to do any hand-holdin' with. She ain't costumed for the part, for one thing. No, hardly. Her idea of an evenin' gown seems to be to kick off her ridin'-boots and pin on a skirt. She still sticks to the white neck-stock; and, the way her hair is parted in the middle and drawn back tight over her ears, she's all fixed to weather a gale. Yes, Myra has all the points of a plain, common-sense female party just taggin' thirty-five good-by. Not that I puts any of them comments on the record, or works 'em in as repartee. Nothing like that. I may look foolish, but there are times when I know enough not to rock the boat. Besides, this was Myra's turn at the bat; and, believe me, she's no bush-leaguer. "H-m-m-m!" says she, givin' me the up-and-down inventory. "No wonder you're called Torchy. One seldom sees hair quite so vivid." "I know," says I. "No use tryin' to play it for old rose, is there? All I'm touchy about is havin' it called red." "For goodness' sake!" says she. "What shade would you call it?" "Why," says I, "I think it sounds more refined to speak of it as pink plus." But Myra seems to be josh-proof. "That, I presume," says she, "is a specimen of what Aunt Cornelia refers to as your unquenchable impertinence." "Oh!" says I. "If you've been gettin' Auntie's opinion of me--" "I have," says Myra; "and, as a near relative of Verona's, I trust you'll pardon me if I seem a bit critical on my own part." "Don't mind me at all," says I. "You don't like the way I talk or the color of my hair. Go on." She ain't one to be led anywhere, though. "I understand," says Myra, "that you come here two or three evenings a week." "That's about the schedule," says I. "And just why?" demands Myra. "It's more or less of a secret," says I; "but there's always a chance, you know, of my havin' a cozy little fam'ly chat like this. And when that don't happen--well, then I can talk with Vee." Miss Burr's mouth puckers until it looks like a slit in a lemon. "To be perfectly frank," says she, "I think it unutterably silly of Aunt Cornelia to allow it." "I can see where you're goin' to be a great help," says I. "Stayin' some time, are you?" "That depends," says Myra--and the way she snaps at me is almost assault with intent to maim. "I suppose," she goes on, "that you and Verona are quite as insufferable as young people usually are. Tell me; do you sit in corners and giggle?" "Not as a rule," says I, "but it looks like we would." "At me, I presume?" says Myra. "Very well; I accept the challenge." And say, she's no prune-fed pacifist, Cousin Myra. Course, she don't swing the hammer quite so open when the folks get back, for Vee ain't one you can walk on with hobnails and get away with it. I guess Myra suspicioned that. But, when it comes to sly jabs and spicy little side remarks shot in casual, Miss Burr lives up to her last name.