Part 29 (1/2)

”You're welcome, ma'am,” Sandy returned, with a clumsy bow, failing to realize her change of att.i.tude.

”If you guess I'm right for marryin', maybe you'll hand me my diploma,” she said, with a demure down-drooping of her eyelids.

She waited, and finally glanced up into his flushed face. Her sarcasm had struck home at last, and without hesitation she went on mercilessly--

”Say, if you ain't goin' to hand me a diploma, guess you can let me get on with my sewin'. Havin' been a married man, maybe you'll understand men-folk ain't a heap of use around when a woman's sewin'.

Guess they're handy ladlin' out most things, but I'd say a man ain't no more use round the eye of a needle than a camel.”

Sandy's dignity and temper were ruffled. It was inconceivable that Birdie--or, as he mentally apostrophized her, ”this blamed hash-slinger”--should so flout him. How dared she? He was so angry that words for once utterly failed him, and he moved towards the door with gills as scarlet as any bl.u.s.tering turkey-c.o.c.k. But Birdie had no idea of sparing him, and hurled her final sarcasm as she turned again to her cupboard.

”I'd hate to be one o' Zip's kids with you gettin' busy around me,”

she cried, chuckling in an infuriating manner.

It was too much for Sandy. He turned fiercely as he reached the door.

”You're 'bug,'” he declared roughly. ”I tell you, Zip's kids ain't nothin' to do with me--”

”Which, I'd say, was lucky for them,” cried Birdie airily.

”An' I'd jest like to say that when a genelman gits around to do the perlite by a no-account mutton-worrier, he figgers to be treat right--”

Birdie turned on him with cold eyes.

”I'll sure be treatin' you right,” she said, ”when I tell you that door don't need shuttin' after you. It's on the swing.”

She did not wait to witness her guest's departure. She felt it would not be graceful, under the circ.u.mstances. So, pus.h.i.+ng her head into the cupboard, she once more gathered up her work.

When the soft swish of the swing-door told her that Sandy's departure had been taken, she emerged with her bundle and spread it out on the table for the third time. She was all smiles. She was not a bit angry with the foolish widower. This dogmatic att.i.tude of mind, this wonderful self-satisfaction, were peculiar to the creature; he couldn't help it. But it had roused a mischievous spirit in her, and the temptation was too great to resist. The only thing she regretted was having let him kiss her, and she at once put up her hand to wipe the spot where the operation had been performed. At any rate, she had certainly taken him down a peg or two, and the thought set her in high good-humor.

Nor could she help wondering at his stupidity in imagining she couldn't see through his desire for information about children. It was laughable, coming after Toby's. Oh, these men! They were dear, foolish creatures. Poor kids, she thought, her mind reverting to Zip's twins.

What had they done to have this pack of foolish people worrying over them? Were they all going to take a hand in bringing the youngsters up? Well, anyhow, she pitied them.

She smiled at her thoughts as the busy scissors snipped their way round the pattern. These men were too funny. First Toby, now Sandy--who next?

She started and looked up, her scissors poised in the air. The swing-door had swished open, and Wild Bill stood before her.

”Good sakes!” she cried. ”How you scared me!” Then, realizing what lay before her, she grabbed up her work, and was for returning it to the cupboard.

But Wild Bill was in a hurry. Besides, he had nothing of the ingratiating ways of the other men about him. He saw her object, and stayed her in his own peculiar authoritative fas.h.i.+on.

”Say, you can quit huggin' them fixin's,” he cried. ”I ain't come pryin' around a leddy's wardrobe. You ken jest set down with paper an'

ink an' things, an' write down how best Zip's kids can be raised. I'll git right back for it in ha'f-an-hour.”

Nor did he wait for any reply. It was taken for granted that his demands would be promptly acceded to, and he vanished as abruptly as he came. The swing-door closed, and Birdie gave a sigh.

”An' him, too,” she murmured. ”Well, I do declare. It just licks creation.”

But this was a different proposition to either Toby or Sandy. She sprang to her task for the great Wild Bill in a way that spoke volumes for her sentimental heart. Wild Bill? Well, she would never have owned it, but there was just one man in the world that scared Birdie to death, and at the same time made her think her path was a bed of roses, and that was Wild Bill. In an astonis.h.i.+ngly short time she was sitting at the table poring over a writing-pad, and biting the already well-chewed end of a pen.