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 hopefully. "I'll speak to Aunt Lila about it, if you're not too proud to take a job from a woman."

"No, that might look like politics," he said. "Let her offer me a job if she wants a man. That would be better."

"Hiring and firing are pretty much in the hands of her foreman, Elmer Tippie," said Edith. "Maybe you'd better strike him for a job. You could do that all right."

"Sure I could, and I will. Where is he?"

"He's on the road home from Jasper; we expect him this evening. He took the last of our clip down last week; he's bringin' up supplies."

"I'll talk to him. There are reasons—several reasons—why I'd rather put in my sheep-raising apprenticeship on this ranch than any other in the world."

"Mr. Peck, for one," she suggested.

"He's only a comical incidental," he said, looking at her warmly, so warmly that her eyes retreated, and a little flush, that was not from the fire of displeasure, brightened in her cheek.

"You'd better come on in and get ready for supper," she said. "Aunt Lila will be yellin' for you in a minute."

He followed her through the corral gate, where she waited until he had fastened it, when they went on together, chatting as if years lay behind the time of their first meeting. Dowell Peck appeared on the kitchen porch, apparently as much at home as a stray dog that has found an open door. He waved at them, flapping his long arm like a railroad semaphore. Then he fell to preening his luxuriant moustache, giving it