At the corner of the building he came
suddenly upon a saddled horse biting and stamping at the flies which
defied swishing tail and savage teeth. Half smiling, he stopped. He
had recognized the horse as a Half Moon animal, one he had ridden
several times, and thought that he could guess who was inside paying
his respects to the schoolmistress. Even as he paused Jocelyn Truxton
came out, opening her white parasol. And in all the holiday regalia of
shaggy black chaps, bright-blue neck-handkerchief, and new Stetson
hat, Lonesome Pete followed her.
Pete, as he emerged from behind the parasol, saw Conniston and called
a hearty "Hello, Con!" to him. And Conniston turned his horse and rode
back to the front steps.
"Miss Jocelyn says as how she ain't been interdooced," Lonesome Pete
was saying, his hat turning nervously in his hands, his face flushing
as he met Conniston's eyes. "Shake han's with Mr. Conniston, Miss
Jocelyn."
Miss Jocelyn lifted her dropped eyelids with a quick flutter, favored
Conniston with a flashing smile, banished her smile to replace it with
a pouting of pursed lips, and said, archly:
"I have half a mind _not_ to shake hands with Mr. Conniston! If he had
wanted to meet me he would have come with Billy Jordan the other
night."
But, none the less, she finished by putting out a small, gloved hand,
and Conniston, leaning from the saddle, took it in his.
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