"Judd, it's you who are the fool. I don't admit your right to discuss this, or any matter, with me, but Rose is nothing to me but a very good friend. Besides, she's only a child."
"She's nigh onter old ernough ter wed," was the uncompromising answer. "An' ef she haint nothin' ter ye, the more shame on ye fer tryin' ter make her love ye, an' mayhaps break her heart."
"But I haven't tried to make her love me," broke in Donald impatiently.
"Then fer what did yo' put yer arms erbout her an' kiss her, like I seen ye through the winder awhile back, I wants ter know?" demanded the other, as he hastily frustrated Donald's attempt to step by him.
The man felt his own face flush hotly, and was angry over this visible display of feeling.
"I tell you she's only a child. I kissed her as I would any little girl of whom I was fond."
"Yo' love her, an' yo' haint the man ter say hit."
"Very well, then. Supposing I admit that I love her, what is it to you?" replied Donald, with a flash of heat.
"I loves her, too. I've loved her since she come ter these hyar mountains, a leetle baby; an' I don't calkerlate ter hev yo', er any city man, make a plaything uv her. Hit's man ter man, now. Air yo', er haint yo', a-goin' ter leave hyar, an' keep erway?"
"As I told you before, it's none of your business," replied Don shortly.