“Yes; water and towels, if you please,” replied Rosalie.
“I’ll get them for you in a minute. When do you look for him in?”
“Mr. Sutherland?—every moment!”
“Umph! humph! Now tell me the truth—I sha’n’t blame you—it’s none o’ my business you know, but—ain’t you and that young man a runaway match?”
“Why, no, certainly not,” said Rosalie, reddening and laughing. “We were married in my uncle’s house, and left it with his blessing and good wishes.”
“That’s right; you must excuse my asking, but you somehow looked so young and delicate for such a life as you’re come to, that I couldn’t help thinking that it must o’ been a love-match.”
Rosalie did not say that she hoped it was a love-match, and the landlady departed on her errand.
When she entered, bringing a tin basin and a crash towel, she put them down upon the chest, and said:
“I forgot to tell you that there are four bachelors sleep in the fore part of the room.”
Rosalie looked up, surprised and shocked. This feature of western life was quite new to her, and she was totally unprepared for it.