He saw that her sudden smile had brought out the dimples in the oval face and that her petulance had been swept away by his astounding information. “Forty-three, sure as shootin’, except twict a week when it comes to Slauson’s, and that’s only twenty miles,” he assured her. “Used to be seventy-two, but the Government got busy with its rural free delivery, and now we get it right at our doors.” “You must have big doors,” she laughed. “All out o’ doors,” he punned. “Y’u see, our house is under our hat, and like as not that’s twenty miles from the ranchhouse when night falls.” “Dear me!” She swept his graceful figure sarcastically. “And, of course, twenty miles from a brush, too.” He laughed with deep delight at her thrust, for the warm youth in him did not ask for pointed wit on the part of a young woman so attractive and with a manner so delightfully provoking. “I expaict I have gathered up some scenery on the journey. I’ll go brush it off and get ready for supper. I’d admire to sit beside y’u and pass the butter and the hash if y’u don’t object. Y’u see, I don’t often meet up with ladies, and I’d ought to improve my table manners when I get a chanct with one so much older than I am and o’ course so much more experienced.” “I see you don’t intend to pass any honey with the hash,” she flashed, with a glimpse of the pearls. “_Didn’t_ y’u say y’u was older than me? I believe I’ve plumb forgot how old y’u said y’u was, Miss Darling.” “Your memory’s such a sieve it wouldn’t be worth while telling you. After you’ve been to school a while longer maybe I’ll try you again.” “Some ladies like ’em young,” he suggested, amiably. “But full grown,” she amended. “Do y’u judge by my looks or my ways?” he inquired, anxiously. “By both.” “That’s right strange,” he mused aloud. “For judging by some of your ways you’re the spinster Miss Messiter was telling me about, but judging by your looks y’u’re only the prettiest and sassiest twenty-year-old in Wyoming.” And with this shot he fled, to see what transformation he could effect with the aid of a whiskbroom, a tin pan of alkali water and a roller towel. When she met him at the supper table her first question was, “Did Miss Messiter say I was an old maid?” “Sho! I wouldn’t let that trouble me if I was y’u. A woman ain’t any older than she looks. Your age don’t show to speak of.” “But did she?” “I reckon she laid a trap for me and I shoved my paw in. She wanted to give me a pleasant surprise.” “Oh!” “Don’t y’u grow anxious about being an old maid. There ain’t any in Wyoming to speak of. If y’u like I’ll tell the boys you’re worried and some of them will be Johnnie-on-the-Spot. They’re awful gallant, cowpunchers are.” “Some of them may be,” she differed. “If you want to know I’m just twenty-one.” He sawed industriously at his steak. “Y’u don’t say! Just old enough to vote—like this steer was before they massacreed him.” She gave him one look, and thereafter punished him with silence.