"Jack knows how scared I was, but he won't tell. Sure I'll get word to him."
He did. At precisely six o'clock the two young men appeared at the home of Clint Wadley's sister. The Ranger was a very self-conscious guest. It was the first time he had dined with ladies at their home since he had lost his own mother ten years earlier. He did not know what to do with his hands and feet. The same would have been true of his hat if Ramona had not solved that problem by taking it from him. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He felt a good deal warmer than the actual temperature of the room demanded.
But Ramona noticed from the background that as soon as she and her aunt retired from the scene his embarrassment vanished. This slim, brown young man was quite at his ease with Clint Wadley, much more so than young Ridley. He was essentially a man's man, and his young hostess liked him none the less for that.
She made a chance to talk with him alone after supper. They were standing in the parlor near the window. Ramona pressed the end of her little finger against a hole in the pane.
"I wonder if you'd like me to sing 'Swanee River' for you, Mr. Roberts?" she asked.
He did not mind being teased. By this time he had regained his confidence. He had discovered that she would not bite even though she might laugh at him in a friendly way.
"You sing it fine," he said.
"I wasn't singing it for you the other time, but for Mr.--what's-his-name, Gurley?"
"I couldn't very well have you keep shoutin' out, 'I'm a girl,' so I figured--?"
"I know what you figured, sir. You wanted to take all the chances that were taken. Father says it was the quickest-witted thing he ever knew." She shot another dart at him, to his confusion. "Do you like my voice?"
"Well, ma'am, I--"
"You don't have to tell any stories. I see you don't."
Jack took heart. "If you're fishin' for a compliment--"
"What a tactful thing to tell a girl," she said, smiling.
"--I'll tell you that I never heard you sing better."
"Or worse, for that matter," she added; and with one of her swift changes of mood switched the topic of conversation. "How do you like Art Ridley?"
"He'll do to take along."
"That's not the way he talks. He says he--he wanted to run away from the island and leave that man Dinsmore, but you wouldn't let him." Her eyes met his very directly.