Away off in the house I could hear Miss Pansy's thin little voice and glue-glue harp; I thought it sounded fine.
"Lost, stole, or strayed on Tuesday night, The finder tries to hide it-- A woman's heart--he has no right, For there's a Love inside it.
"The owner fears 'twas snatched away, But this is a reminder, That she is quite prepared to pay One half, with thanks, to finder."
Miss Blossom led me to the house. "You come right into the settin'-room," says she, "and keep yo' tearing spurs off my new carpet."
I did my best about the spurs, but it would take an Indian scout to find a safe trail across that parlour floor, the same being cluttered up with little fool tables. These same tables were of different breeds, three-legged, two-legged, one-legged, tumble-over, all-to-pieces, trip-you-up, and smash-the-crockery, so it was a sure treat to watch Miss Pansy curving around without the slightest accident. Her paws were folded in front, her tail came swishing behind, her head came pecking along hen-fashion, and her smile was sweet enough to give me toothache.
"Oh," she bubbled, "I'm so glad you didn't get lynched by those horrid men who never wash themselves, or think of serious things; and it's so nice to see you looking so brown with that beautiful cherry silk kerchief round yo' neck, and the wonderful leather leggings, and that dreadful revolver, so picturesque, so----"
"You're making a fool of yo'self," says Miss Blossom, "and the man wants feeding. Picturesque! Bosh! Shoo!" She chased Miss Pansy out of the room.
As to Curly, she lay on the sofa kicking high with joy. "Chalkeye," she howled, "you ole hoss-thief, keep yo' tearin' spurs off my new cyarpet. You picturesque, beautiful, leather-faced, cock-eyed robber! 'Ware tables, or they'll bite yo' laigs! Oh, gimme yo' paw to shake, and throw me a cigarette. Look out--that chair's goin' to buck!"
I sat on the edge of the chair, and grabbed her hand while she called me all sorts of pet names. Then it seems that Miss Pansy broke loose from Miss Blossom, and came surging back, for she heard the pet names, and shrieked--
"Oh! oh! Stop! What frightful language! Oh, please, if you're a lady--remember! Oh, Misteh Davies, you mustn't let her smoke!"