“He’s talking for me, sure,” said Hanson, who knew enough Spanish to make out.

“Oh, damn,” said the parrot disgustedly; “why the hell can’t you shut up?”

Hanson gave a great burst of laughter.  “Lolita and Hughie are well matched when it comes to politeness.”

“They got the artistic temperament, and me, too, and mom, also,” said Pearl.  “That’s what the newspaper boys always wrote about me when I was on the road.”

The manager did not miss the opening.  “Look here,” he said earnestly; “ain’t you tired loafing around here?  I guess you know what I’m in Paloma for.  I’ve made no secret of it.  Now all you got to do is to show me your contract with Sweeney and I’ll double what he gave you, play you over a bigger circuit, and advertise you, so’s before your contract with me’s expired you’ll be asked to do a few turns on the Metropolitan Opera stage of New York City, New York.”

“Love me to-day,” sang Lolita, meltingly, if with grating harshness.

“That’s right, Lolita, sing your pretty song,” coaxed Pearl.  “Come on, I’ll sing with you.”  She lifted her languorous eyes and sang softly, almost under her breath, but straight at Hanson: 

     “Love me to-day,
     Love me an hour;
     Love is a flower,
     Fading alway.”

The blood surged to his temples at the direct challenge, he half rose and leaned toward her.  Then, as she laughed at him, he sat down.  “Treble Sweeney’s offer, by God!” he said hoarsely.  “Cash down beforehand.”  He brought his fist down on the arm of the chair with a crash.

“Oh, I ain’t ready to make any plans yet,” Pearl announced indifferently.  “I want to talk things over with Pop first.  He’ll be down from the mines before long, maybe to-day.”

She sat for a few moments in silence, her eyes fixed on the far purple hazes of the desert.  “Oh, I wish there weren’t so many of me,” she said at last and wistfully.  “After I’m ‘out’ a while, I’ll get to longing so for the desert that I’m likely to raise any kind of a row and break any old contract just to get here.  I can’t breathe.  I feel as if everything, buildings and people and all, were crowding me so’s if I didn’t have a place to stand; and then, after I’m here a while, I got to see the footlights, I got to hear them clapping, I got to dance for the big crowds.  Oh, Lord! life’s awful funny, always trying to chain you up to one thing or another.  But I won’t be tied.  I got to be free, and I will be free.”  She threw out her arms with a passionate gesture.

“You’d be free with me,” he cried.

But, if she heard him, she gave no indication of having done so.  “Can you ride?” she asked presently.

“You bet,” said Hanson eagerly.  “I was born in Kaintucky.  Just tell me where I can get a horse here, and—­”

“I’ll lend you one of mine, and we’ll have some rides.  I’ll take you out on the desert.  It ain’t safe to go alone.  You see those sand hills yonder?  Do you think you could walk out to them and back?”