"I'm unworthy," said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't want
to be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon."
"_Thanksawfully_," said Louise.
"Jealous, mouse?"
"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband."
"I have already congratulated the doctor," said Walter Stone, bowing.
"Doctor," said Anne, in her most formal manner. "You're antique. Why
don't you say something bright?"
"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up a
bit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure."
"Yes, indeed,--almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, _don't_ wear your
fountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now."
In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the veranda
and chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about the
proposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots and
saddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad,
Anne," said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all about
them, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious about
your safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at the
beginning."
"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would have
enjoyed it, Doctor.
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