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.

“I was sorry, Miss Truxton,” he said, lightly.  “Didn’t Jordan tell you?  Garton and I had a lot to do that night, and worked late.  It was very kind of you to say that I might come.”

“If you had wanted to come very much—­” she said, shaking her head saucily. “You would have found time to come, wouldn’t you, Pete?”

Lonesome Pete, his spurred boots shifting uneasily, put on his hat, noticed immediately that Conniston still held his in his hand, snatched it off again, spun it about upon a big forefinger, and grinned redly.

“I sure would, Miss Jocelyn,” he declared with great emphasis.

Miss Jocelyn turned back to lock the school-house door, and then came down the steps and into the road.

“I’ll go git my hoss an’ walk along,” Lonesome Pete said, and hurried around to the back of the house.

“Are you going my way, Mr. Conniston?”

Conniston said that he was, and swung down, walking at her side and leading his horse.

“If you really do care to come to see me,” Jocelyn said, quickly, before the cowboy had rejoined them, “you may call this evening.”

Conniston thanked her, and, not to seem rude, said that he would drop in after he and Tommy Garton had finished their work.  Jocelyn smiled at him brightly.

“You may come early, if you like.  I am sure that you will have a whole lot of things to tell me about the progress you and papa are making with the ditch.  I’m so interested in the work, Mr. Conniston.”

Pete had taken up his horse’s dragging reins and led him into the street.  Jocelyn, her chin a trifle lifted, her air more than a trifle coquettish as she smiled at Conniston, pretended not to see her red-headed adorer.  Walking between the two men, she even tilted her parasol so that it did no slightest good in the world in the matter of protecting her from the sun, but served very effectively in shutting out Lonesome Pete.  Conniston laughed and talked lightly with her, vastly amused at the situation and the discomfiture upon her ardent lover’s expressive face.  And so, with Pete trudging along in silence, unnoticed, they came to the office and stopped, Jocelyn and Conniston still talking to each other, Lonesome Pete tying and untying knots in his bridle-reins.

“Can’t you give up enough of your precious time to walk on home with me?  I have some icy cold lemonade waiting for me,” she tempted.