"You've seen it. Why didn't you send it to me?"

"Who said I'd seen it?" He took the book from her, staring across it,
suddenly combative. "Don't you run along so fast. Ain't you known if I
had I'd have mailed it to you?"

"But how did you know about it?" she said, her surprise growing, for she
saw he was moved.

"You're gettin' too darned quick." He pushed the book in among the dishes
roughly, his irritation obvious.

"Ain't it possible I might have heard it? Might have met a feller that
come up from Marysville who'd seen It and told me?"

"Yes, of course it is. You needn't get mad about it."

"Mad--who said I was mad?" He bent over the book, muttering like a storm
in retreat. "I guess I ain't missed so many that when one does get by me
you should throw it in my teeth."

She smoothed the top of his head with a placating hand and went back to
her seat. Nibbling a ripe olive she watched him as he read. Her eyes
were anxiously questioning. This too--anger at so small a thing--was
unlike him.

When he had finished his annoyance was over; pride beamed from his face
as if a light was lit behind it.