“Well, twenty-five, then. Of course, Julie, when I die I will leave this place to you, and that’s what made me think about your marryin’. I want a good, sharp man to fight fer my cows an’ my range, a man that knows it and could make a success of it, an’ yet wouldn’t care because it was in your name.” 79
“Would you mind if I loved him a little bit, too?” asked the girl, with elaborately playful sarcasm.
“Bless you, no. Love him all you want to, but I ’low you couldn’t love a man very long who didn’t have all them qualifications I mentioned. I figger love out somethin’ like this. First there’s a rockbed of ability, then a top soil of decency, an’ out o’ these two, admiration kind o’ grows like corn. Of course you always grind up the corn and soak it with sentiment; then you’ve got mush. An’ the trouble with most people is they only think of the mush an’ forget the rock an’ the top soil.”
“Why, you old philosopher!” cried the girl, laughing and squeezing his big shoulders. “You’re awfully clever, really.” Which remark brought a confused but pleased blush to Bissell’s hard face that had become wonderfully soft and tender during this hour with his daughter.
“Now, see here,” went on the girl severely, “I think there’s something back of all this talk about marriage. What is it?”
Bissell looked at her, startled, not having expected to encounter feminine intuition.
“Nothin’, only I wish you could marry somebody that’d look out fer you the way I mentioned. 80 Then I could die happy, though I don’t expect to be on that list fer a long while.”
“Anybody in mind?” asked Julie banteringly.
“Well, not exactly,” hesitated her father, with another sharp glance. “But I allow I could dig up one if I tried very hard.”
“Go ahead and try.”