"He was the roughest, scrubbiest boy when we last met. What a
fine-looking fellow he has grown to be, and how well he rides!"
"No wonder; a fellow who can have a horse whenever he has a mind to," said
Phil, enviously. "Life on a ranch must be great fun, I think."
"Yes; in one way, but pretty rough and lonely too, sometimes. It will be
nice to go out and see Clarence's, if we can get some lady to go with us,
won't it?"
"Well, just don't let it be Mrs. Watson, whoever else it is. She would
spoil it all if she went."
"Now, Philly, don't. We're supposed to be leaning on her for support."
"Oh, come now, lean on that old thing! Why she couldn't support a postage
stamp standing edgewise, as the man says in the play. Do you suppose I
don't know how you have to look out for her and do everything? She's not a
bit of use."
"Yes; but you and I have got to be polite to her, Philly. We mustn't
forget that."
"Oh, I'll be polite enough, if she will just leave us alone," retorted
Phil.
Promising!
CHAPTER VII.
MAKING ACQUAINTANCE.
Phil was better than his word. He was never uncivil to Mrs. Watson, and
his distant manners, which really signified distaste, were set down by
that lady to boyish shyness.
"They often are like that when they are young," she told Clover; "but they
get bravely over it after a while. He'll outgrow it, dear, and you mustn't
let it worry you a bit.
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