“She ain’t a girl no more; she’s a woman now.”
Gloss was dressed in a homespun skirt and a jacket of raw deerskin, but it was the wild beauty of her face with its glorious coloring and great fawn-like eyes that Paisley saw. Remembering what he had so lately heard, a great anger swept through the man. The girl noticed his working face, and she came over to him.
“Bill,” she said, “I’ve known you ever since I can remember, and I never saw your eyes look like they do now. Are you sick, Bill?”
“Glossie,” said Paisley, “I want to tell you somethin’. You’re not to go outside this here house until I say you can. You know old Bill, and he knows somethin’ you don’t know. You promise me right now that you won’t go out, Glossie.”
The girl looked at him quickly, then slowly removed her cap.
“Bill,” said she, “I sure will do whatever you say, and ask no questions. I know you so well, Bill—and I won’t go out until you say. I—I—am some scared——”
She caught her breath and clinched her slender hands, her color rising.
“Girl,” said Bill slowly, “you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared over; but don’t you forget you’ve promised me. Now, Glossie, tell me about the ma.”
“Why, Bill,” cried the girl, “it was all so unexpected. Auntie was awful sick. We all thought she was—was——”
“I know; Boy told me.”