And that white waistcoat. My, but you don't look as if you'd
ever branded a calf in your life. It's only your dear handsome face
gives you away, and--and the backs of your hands."
Nan laughed as she retied the tie to her satisfaction, the fashion in
which a girl loves to see a bow tied. The man submitted meekly, but
with concern for her final remark.
"But I scrubbed 'em both--sore," he declared anxiously.
"I don't mean they're dirty, Daddy," the girl laughed. "Was there ever
such a simple, simple soul? It's the wholesome mahogany tan which the
wind and the sun have dyed them. Say, there, get a peek at yourself in
that glass." She thrust him toward a wall mirror. "It's not girls
only who need a mirror, when a man is good to look at, Daddy, is it?
Honest? It doesn't make you hate yourself, nor feel foolish. I guess
there's men folks who'd have you think that way, but if I know anything
they'd hate to be without a mirror when they're fixing themselves for a
party where there's to be some nice looking women, and where they're to
be something better than just a 'stray' blown in.
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