He looked sheepish, then disgusted.
"Dad!" exclaimed Lucy, reproachfully.
"See here, Jane," said Bostil, with an air of finality, "the girl is of age to-day--an' she can do what she damn pleases!" "That's a fine thing for you to say," retorted Aunt Jane.

"Like as not she'll be fetching that hang-dog Joel Creech up here for you to support." "Auntie!" cried Lucy, her eyes blazing.
"Oh, child, you torment me--worry me so," said the disappointed woman.
"It's all for your sake....

Look at you, Lucy Bostil! A girl of eighteen who comes of a family! And you riding around and going around as you are now--in a man's clothes!" "But, you dear old goose, I can't ride in a woman's skirt," expostulated Lucy.

"Mind you, Auntie, I can RIDE!" "Lucy, if I live here forever I'd never get reconciled to a Bostil woman in leather pants.

We Bostils were somebody once, back in Missouri." Bostil laughed.