“There’s nothing the matter with Rover, he’s merely lonesome to see you,” he said.
They had taken seats on a rustic bench between two cottonwood trees. Josephine was fondly watching the dog’s antics.
“Oh, I am so glad there is nothing the matter with him. He was the means of saving my life once, you know.”
“That time, I remember well,” he answered, a feeling of gloom stealing over him.
He was thinking of her deep concern over Bud’s injury when she was rescued from the brute Tom Powers.
“I suppose you would have been better pleased yesterday if Bud had been the one to rescue you,” he said, a little ungallantly.
“What makes you think that?” her face was averted from him.
“Well, you love him, don’t you?” he put the question bluntly.
Josephine was silent and he relentlessly repeated his question.
“No, I—I—love some one else,” the girl faltered at last.