se of a car going out not
far from us. I suppose, like enough, it was over at the Wisners'; maybe
some of their folks was going or coming. In the city, folks don't use
the way they do on a ranch and night goes on about the same as daytime.

I'd been studying so hard over all these things, trying to see how I'd
have to play the game, that I didn't notice Old Man Wright when he come
in that morning, about the time he usual got up for breakfast. He wasn't
worried none, but seemed right happy, like something was clear in his
mind.

"Well, Curly," says he, "you're up right early, ain't you? What makes
you so keen to hear the little birds sing this morning?"

He fills up his pipe. I didn't say nothing.

"Well," says he after a time, smoking and looking out the window, "I
suppose I'm a fond parent again right now. Maybe I'll be a grandpa
before long--who can tell? I never did figure on being a grandpa in my
born days," says he; "but such is life."

"What do you mean, Colonel?" I ast him.

"Well," says he, "I ain't a real grandpa yet, maybe, but I reckon it's
like enough. All them flowers and that sort of thing--and that late
executive session last night. When's the day?"

He still looks right contented. What could I say to him then?

"Too bad," says he, "you couldn't of stayed up to get the happy news,
Curly!" says he. "I expect Tom Kimberly would of been right glad to tell
you or me; but I knew how the thing was going. I been a young man once
myself. He don't want old people setting round--he wants the whole field
clear for hisself. It takes young folks several hours sometimes to set
and tell things to each other that could be told in just a minute.
Proposing is a industrial waste, the way it's done customary.

"Well, well!" he goes on. "I'm glad my little girl's going to be so
happy. She's a good girl and she loves her pa. Sometimes I even think
she's right fond of you, Curly," says he. "I can't see why. You're a
mighty trifling man, Curly," says he. "I don't see why I keep you."

Then I knowed he was feeling good. He wouldn't turn me off noways in the
world, but he liked to joke thataway sometimes.

"Well," says he after a while, "what do you say about it your own self,
Curly?"

"I say she loves you as much as any girl ever did her pa. She loves me,
too, though I don't know why, neither."

"Shore she does!" he nods. "And she'll do the square thing by us
two--that's shore."

"Is it?" says I. "Well, who knows