but in a
tone both Ophelia and Carolyn June heard. "We'll leave you and Skinny
with the ladies and not intrude--"

"You won't be intruding if you remain," Ophelia said brightly. "Carolyn
June and I are not partial at all and want you to feel that we enjoy
meeting you all."

"Yes, stay," Carolyn June added, somewhat reluctant that of the entire
group only one should be left to the wiles of her unconsciously
intentional coquetry; "there is plenty of room in here and it's cool--"

"We're much obliged," Bert said, "but we'd better do the way Parker
mentioned. Anyhow that was the agreement."

"Agreement?" Ophelia spoke with a questioning lift of her brows.

"Yes," Chuck said, evidently trying to relieve the embarrassment of Old
Heck, Parker and Skinny who looked daggers at Bert when he spoke of an
agreement, "Parker and Old Heck was to take turn about--"

"Bert meant," Parker interrupted hastily, "--he meant they--they had to
agree not to loaf in this room before Old Heck would give them jobs on
the Quarter Circle KT!"

"Yes," Old Heck added quickly, "that was the bargain on account
of--of--getting it mussed up and everything and making too much work for
Sing Pete to clean it up!"

Ophelia and Carolyn June looked curiously at each other as if they
suspected some secret that had to do with their presence at the Quarter
Circle KT.

Outside, the cowboys lounged on the porch or lay spread full length on
the grass smoking their cigarettes, and silent. Each was busy with
thoughts of his own. Carolyn June had been very impartial during the
evening meal, distributing her smiles and little attentions freely among
them all. Now she was sitting at the piano playing snatches of random
melodies as they came to her mind, while Skinny sat stiffly on a
high-backed chair at the corner of the instrument.

A drone of voices reached the ears of Parker and the cowboys as Old
Heck, skilfully led on by Ophelia, told about the ranch, the Kiowa range
and the traditions of western Texas.

"Can you play _La Paloma?_" Skinny asked as Carolyn June paused after
running over a dainty and vivacious one-step, memories of which made her
think of Hartville and the fashionable ballrooms where she had reigned
as princess at least if not as queen, and which seemed now very far
away.

"I'm afraid not--unless I have the music, but I'll try," she answered,
and her fingers again sought the keys.

The dreamy Mexican air drifted seductively out on the