Dick thought Ford was jealous of him, and trying to think of some scheme
to "play even," without coming to open war. Mrs. Kate was positive, in
her purely feminine mind--which was a very good mind, understand, but
somewhat inadequate when brought to bear upon the big problems of
life--that Ford was tippling in secret. Josephine thought--just what she
said, probably, upon the chill day when she calmly asked Ford at the
breakfast table if he would let her go with him.
Ford had casually remarked, in answer to a diffident question from Mrs.
Kate, that he was going to ride out on Long Ridge and see if any stock
was drifting back toward the ranch. He hadn't sent any one over that way
for several days. Ford, be it said, had announced his intention
deliberately, moved by a vague, unreasoning impulse.
"Can I go?" teased Buddy, from sheer force of habit; no one ever
mentioned going anywhere, but Buddy shot that question into the
conversation.
"No, you can't. You can't, with that cold," his mother vetoed promptly,
and Buddy, whimpering over his hot cakes, knew well the futility of
argument, when Mrs. Kate used that tone of finality.
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