And that's what it'll come to if he
acts the way he does. Folks will stand just so much. Then they give up
trying."

"I reckon you're right about that, Joy."

"Of course I'm right. You have to meet your friends halfway."

"Well, if you talk to him don't hurt his feelin's."

There was a glint of mirth in her eyes, almost of friendly malice. "I'm
going to worry him about _my_ feelings, Dad. He'll not have time to think
of his own."

Joyce found her chance next day. She met David Sanders in front of a
drug-store. He would have passed with a bow if she had let him.

"What does the oil expert Mr. Graham sent think about our property?" she
asked presently, greetings having been exchanged.

"He hasn't given out any official opinion yet, but he's impressed. The
report will be favorable, I think."

"Isn't that good?"

"Couldn't be better," he admitted.

It was a warm day. Joyce glanced in at the soda fountain and said
demurely, "My, but it's hot! Won't you come in and have an ice-cream soda
on me?"

Dave flushed. "If you'll go as my guest," he said stiffly.

"How good of you to invite me!" she accepted, laughing, but with a tint
of warmer color in her cheeks.

Rhythmically she moved beside him to a little table in the corner of the
drug-store. "I own stock in the Jackpot. You've got to give an accounting
to me. Have you found a market yet?"

"The whole Southwest will be our market as soon as we can reach it."

"And when will that be?" she asked.

"I'm having some hauled to relieve the glut. The railroad will be
operating inside of six weeks. We'll keep Number Three capped till then
and go on drilling in other locations. Burns is spudding in a new well
to-day."

The clerk took their order and departed. They were quite alone, not
within hearing of anybody. Joyce took her fear by the throat and plunged
in.

"You mad at me, Mr. Sanders?" she asked jauntily.

"You know I'm not."

"How do I know it?" she asked innocently. "You say as little to me as you
can, and get away from me as quick as you can. Yesterday, for instance,
you'd hardly say 'Good-morning.'"

"I didn't mean to be rude. I was busy." Dave felt acutely uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry if I didn't seem sociable."

"So was Mr. Hart busy, but he had time to stop and say a pleasant word."
The brown eyes challenged their vis-a-vis steadily.

The young man found nothing to say. He could not explain that he had not
lingered because he was giving Bob a cha