His forehead smoothed a trifle, as if that one sentence had relieved him of some of his bottled bitterness.
"YOU ain't shrunk up none--in your estimation," Baumberger forgot his pose of tolerant good nature to say.

His heavy jaw trembled as if he had been overtaken with a brief attack of palsy; so also did the hand which replaced his pipe between his loosely quivering lips.

"That little yellow-haired witch must have given yuh the cold shoulder; but you needn't take it out on me.

Had a quarrel ?" He painstakingly brushed some ashes from his sleeve, once more the wheezing, chuckling fat man who never takes anything very seriously.
"Did you ever try minding your own business ?" Grant inquired with much politeness of tone.
"We-e-ell, yuh see, m' son, it's my business to mind other people's business!" He chuckled at what he evidently considered a witty retort.
"I've been pouring oil on the troubled waters all forenoon--maybe I've kinda got the habit." "Only you're pouring it on a fire this time." "That dangerous, yuh mean ?" "You're liable to start a conflagration you can't stop, and that may consume yourself, is all." "Say, they sure do teach pretty talk in them colleges!" he purred, grinning loosely, his own speech purposely uncouth.
Good Indian turned upon him, stopped as quickly, and let his anger vent itself in a sneer.

It had occurred to him that Baumberger was not goading him without purpose--because Baumberger was not that kind of man.