“Now, daddy—­” Angela began again.

Hardy was angry at her repeated solicitation.  “Will you let me alone?  This is my business,” he said to her in a firm voice, “Remember that, and don’t attempt to put your finger in the pie.  This is my business, I tell you.”

“Yes, I know daddy; but you needn’t be so mean about it.”

“I’m a plain man, and I don’t believe in beating about the bush.  Get that through your head—­every one of you, I mean.”

“But you might at least be—­” his daughter began once more.

“Won’t you please keep still?” His rage was mounting; and his brow darkened.

“I only want you to be nice about it, daddy,” Angela persisted, sweetly.

“How can anybody be nice about a thing like this?” said the man of iron.

“I know I could be,” Angela informed him.

Her father looked at her.  “Well, what would you do?”

“Give him his ranch back, of course!”

Jasper Hardy couldn’t believe what he had heard, and from his own child.  “Well, for the love of heaven!” he cried, and almost burst out laughing.

“We’ve more ranches now than we know what to do with.  Everybody is aware of that.”

Here was Uncle Henry’s chance.  “That’s the idea!” he cried.  “What do you want it for, anyhow?” But no one paid any attention to him.

“Oh, will you, daddy—­for my sake?” Angela pleaded.

Hardy was adamant.  “Certainly not!  What a stupid request.  How did such ideas come into your head?”

“But I don’t see why—­” the unremitting Angela started to say.

Her father was furious now, and tired of her prattle.  He turned to “Red.”  “Take her out doors, will you?” as though she were a child.

“Red’s” face gleamed as if a lantern had been lighted behind it.  He turned eagerly to Angela. “Will I!” he cried.

But Angela was scornful.  How foolish of “Red” to think her father could dismiss her in this way!  She proceeded as though no such suggestion had been made, and addressed her father once more, not in the least perturbed: 

“Of course, if you’re going to be nasty about it—­” Then, sweetly, to Gilbert she continued:  “Please don’t think too badly of us, Mr. Jones.  Father doesn’t really mean any harm.”

“No more’n a rattlesnake,” Uncle Henry leaned out of his chair to whisper in a voice that could be heard by everyone.

“It’s just that he doesn’t know any better,” Angela went on to Gilbert.  “He’s really very neighborly when he wants to be.”

She rose, and “Red” offered her his arm; but she haughtily rejected it, and went out the door, unaware that the devoted and humble “Red” followed her.

Jasper Hardy was glad she had gone.  He could speak freely now.  He addressed Jones.

“Packed up yet?” he inquired, sarcastically, as though he meant to intimate that his coming journey would be a pleasant one.