Miss Georgie gave her hair a hasty pat or two, pushed a novel out
of sight under a Boise newspaper, and turned toward him with a
breezily careless smile when he stepped up to the open door and
stopped as if he were not quite certain of his own mind, or of
his welcome.
He was secretly thinking of Peppajee's information that Miss
Georgie thought he was "bueno," and he was wondering if it were
true. Not that he wanted it to be true! But he was man enough to
look at her with a keener interest than he had felt before. And
Miss Georgie, if one might judge by her manner, was woman enough
to detect that interest and to draw back her skirts, mentally,
ready for instant flight into unapproachableness.
"Howdy, Mr. Imsen?" she greeted him lightly. "In what official
capacity am I to receive you, please? Do YOU want to send a
telegram?" The accent upon the pronoun was very faint, but it was
there for him to notice if he liked. So much she helped him.
She was a bright young woman indeed, that she saw he wanted help.
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