The electrical touches, half-caress,
half-defiance; the confidential whisperings, so that the wily old man in
the rear might not hear; the surges up against him; the recoveries--only
to surge again--these would require a mechanical contrivance which
reports not only speech but action--and even this might easily fail, so
subtle was it all!
"Sef--Seffy, I thought it was his old watch he was auctioning off. I
wanted it for--for--a nest-egg! aha-ha-ha! You must excuse me."
"You wouldn't 'a' bid at all if you'd knowed it was me, I reckon," said
Seffy.
"Yes, I would," declared the coquette. "I'd rather have you than any
nest-egg in the whole world--any two of 'em!"--and when he did not take
his chance--"if they were made of gold!"
But then she spoiled it.
"It's worse fellows than you, Seffy." The touch of coquetry was but too
apparent.
"And better," said Seffy, with a lump in his throat. "I know I ain't no
good with girls--and I don't care!"
"Yes!" she assented wickedly. "There _are_ better ones."
"Sam Pritz--"
Sally looked away, smiled, and was silent.
"Sulky Seffy!" she finally said.
"If he does stink of salt mackerel, and 'most always drunk!" Seffy went
on bitterly.
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