No man really
makes much of a hit in this country until everybody calls him by his
first name."
"Well, Mr. Elden seems to have made a hit, as you call it, with some of
his acquaintances," said Mrs. Hardy, with a touch of acidity. "I
think, Irene, you would do well to remember that we are not out on the
ranges, and that Mr. Elden no longer pursues his living with a lariat."
"It may be a point of view I have acquired in the West," Irene
persisted. "But I think it a greater courtesy to address a man by his
Christian name than by any artificial title. It is something like
admitting a guest into the kitchen--a privilege not extended to the
casual visitor. It seems like taking him into the family----"
"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy. "Have we come to that?"
Irene's cheeks and eyes grew brighter still. "Oh, I didn't mean that,"
she protested. "I was--I was employing a figure of speech."
So the talk drifted on, sometimes safely, sometimes through tortuous
channels that threatened at any moment to over-turn their little shell
of convention. But no such catastrophe occurred, and when, at length,
Mrs. Hardy began to show signs of weariness, Irene served coffee and
cake, and the two men, taking that as an intimation that their welcome
had run down, but would re-wind itself if not too continually drawn
upon, left the house together. On their way they agreed that it was a
very beautiful night.
Dave turned the situation over in his mind with some impatience.
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