declared as they drove out of town, having left the new horse to be shod.
"You don't mind their calling you 'Jake Stanwood's gal'?"
"No, indeed! I think it's perfectly lovely!"
"It cannot but be gratifying to me," Stanwood remarked, in the half-satirical tone he found easiest in conversation with this near relative; "in fact, I may say it is gratifying to me, to find that the impression is mutually favorable. Halstead, the ruffianly looking sheep-raiser who called you 'Madam,' confided to me that you were the first woman he had ever met who knew the difference between a horse and a cow; and Simmons, the light-haired man who looks like a deacon, but who is probably the worst thief in four counties, told me I ought to be proud of 'that gal'!"
"Oh, papa, what gorgeous compliments! Don't you want a swap?"
"A what?"
"A swap. That's what we call it when we pay back one compliment with another."
He turned and looked at her with an amused approval which was almost paternal.
"It is most refreshing," he said, "to have the vocabulary of the effete West enlivened with these breezy expressions from the growing East."
