Part 12 (1/2)
”I am sure I don't know,” said Miss Becker stiffly.
”Speakin' about sunsets,” said he hastily, after a quick glance at her shaded upper lip, ”how's your pa? I heard he had a sinkin' spell yestiday.”
”He's better.” A moment later, with fine scorn: ”His sun hasn't set yet, Mr. Crow.”
”Beats all how he hangs on, don't it? Eighty-seven last birthday, an'
spry as a man o' fifty up to--” He broke off to devote his attention to a couple of strangers farther down the tree-lined street: two men who approached slowly on the plank sidewalk, pausing every now and then to peer inquiringly at the front doors of houses along the way.
Miss Sue Becker, whose back was toward the strangers, allowed her poetic mind to resume its interest in the sunset.
”Golden cloudlets float upon a coral--What did you say, Mr. Crow?”
”Ever see 'em before, Sue?”
”Hundreds of times. They remind me of the daintiest, fleeciest puffs of--”
”I'm talkin' about those men comin' up the street,” said the old town marshal sharply.
Miss Becker abandoned the transient sunset for something more durable.
Forty-odd summers had pa.s.sed over her head.
For one professedly indifferent to the opposite s.e.x, Miss Becker went far toward dislocating her neck when Anderson Crow mentioned the approach of a couple of strange men.
”I've never seen either of them before, Mr. Crow,” she said, a little jump in her voice.
”That settles it,” said Anderson, putting on his spectacles.
”Settles what?”
”Proves they ain't been in Tinkletown more'n twenty minutes,” he replied, much too promptly to suit Miss Becker, who favoured him with a look he wouldn't have forgotten in a long time if he had had eyes in the back of his head. ”They must be lookin' for some one,” he went on, squinting narrowly. ”Good-bye, Sue. See you tomorrer, I suppose.”
”I'm not going yet, Mr. Crow,” she said, moving a little closer to the fence. ”You don't suppose I'm going to let those men pursue me all the way home, do you?”
”They don't look like kidnappers,” he said. ”Besides, it ain't dark enough yet.”
”Just what do you mean by that, Anderson Crow?” she snapped.
”What do I mean by what?” he inquired in some surprise.
”By what you just said.”
”I mean you're perfectly safe as long as it's daylight,” he retorted.
”What else could I mean?”
The two strangers were quite near by this time--near enough, in fact, to cause Miss Becker to lower her voice as she said:
”They're awfully nice looking gentlemen, ain't they?”
Evidently Mr. Crow's explanation had satisfied her, for she was smiling with considerable vivacity as she made the remark. Up to that instant she had neglected her back hair. Now she gracefully, lingeringly fingered it to see if it was properly in place. In doing so, she managed to drop her parasol.
To her chagrin, Marshal Crow took that occasion to behave in a most incredible manner. It is quite probable that he forgot himself. In any case, he picked up the parasol and returned it to her, s.n.a.t.c.hing it, in fact, almost from beneath the foot of the nearest stranger.