He was more like a quaint
figure of the seventeenth century than a successful cattleman of the
twentieth.
"It _is_ shameful, Dad," she went on, encouraged by his silence, "or
you could tell me some reason."
"Some reason for not letting him have a gun?" asked the rancher, still
with the quizzical smile.
"Yes, yes!" she said eagerly, "and some reason for treating him in a
thousand ways as if he were an irresponsible boy."
"Why, Kate, gal, you have tears in your eyes!"
He drew her onto a stool beside him, holding both her hands, and
searched her face with eyes as blue and almost as bright as her own.
"How does it come that you're so interested in Dan?"
"Why, Dad, dear," and she avoided his gaze, "I've always been
interested in him. Haven't we grown up together?"
"Part ways you have."
"And haven't we been always just like brother and sister?"
"You're talkin' a little more'n sisterly, Kate."
"What do you mean?"
"Ay, ay! What do I mean! And now you're all red. Kate, I got an idea
it's nigh onto time to let Dan start on his way."
He could not have found a surer way to drive the crimson from her face
and turn it white to the lips.
"Dad!"
"Well, Kate?"
"You wouldn't send Dan away!"
Before he could answer she dropped her head against his shoulder
and broke into great sobs.
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