service!—it is awful. But when one leaves the town behind it is splendid, and I can appreciate it because I had such a hard season in the city last winter—so many balls, parties and theaters that I simply wore myself out."
"I never hankered much for them things," Hopalong replied. "'An' I don't like th' towns much, either. Once or twice a year I gets as far as Kansas City, but I soon tires of it an' hits th' back trail. Yu see, I don't like a fence country—I wants lots of room an' air."
She regarded him intently: "I know that you will think me very forward."
He smiled and slowly replied: "I think yu are all O. K."
"There do not appear to be many women in this country," she suggested.
"No, there ain't many," he replied, thinking of the kind to be found in all of the cow-towns. "They don't seem to hanker for this kind of life—they wants parties an' lots of dancin' an' them kind of things. I reckon there ain't a whole lot to tempt 'em to come."
"You evidently regard women as being very frivolous," she replied.
"Well, I'm speakin' from there not being any out here," he responded, "although I don't know much about them, to tell th' truth. Them what are out here can't be counted." Then he flushed and looked away.
She ignored the remark and placed her hand to her hair: "Goodness! My hair must look terrible!"
He turned and looked: "Yore hair is pretty—I allus did like brown hair."
She laughed and put back the straggling locks: "It is terrible! Just look at it! Isn't it awful?"
"Why, no: I reckons not," he replied critically. "It looks sort of free an' easy thataway."
