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"Well," very reluctantly. "I dreamed I was visiting the

penitentiary and you were there in stripes. You were in for

stealing a sheep, I think. Yes, that was it, for stealing a

sheep."

"Couldn't you make it something more classy if you're bound to

have me in?" he begged, enjoying immensely the rise she was

taking out of him.

"I have to tell it the way it was," she insisted, her eyes

bubbling with fun. "And it seems you were the prison cook. First

thing I knew you were standing in front of a wall and two hundred

of the prisoners were shooting at you. They were using your

biscuits as bullets."

"That was a terrible revenge to take on me for baking them."

"It seems you had your sheep with you--the one you stole, and you

and it were being pelted all over."

"Did you see a lady hold-up among those shooting at me?" he

inquired anxiously.