"I aimed to say 'howdy' first chanct I got." He shoved a chair toward the girl. "Set down an' take hit easy a spell."
"Where is Microby?" she asked, refusing the proffered seat with a smile, and leaning lightly against her saddle.
"Land sakes, I don't know! She's gittin' that no 'count, she goes pokin' off somewhere's in the hills on Gee Dot. Says she's a-prospectin'—like they all says when they're too lazy to do reg'lar work."
"My father was a prospector," answered the girl, quickly, "and there wasn't a lazy bone in his body. And I'm a prospector, and I'm sure I'm not lazy."
"Law, there I went an' done hit!" exclaimed Ma Watts, contritely. "I didn't mean no real honest-to-Gawd, reg'lar prospectors like yo' pa wus, an' yo', an' Mr. Bethune. But there's that Vil Holland, he's a cowpuncher, when he works, and a prospector when he don't. An' there's Lord Clendennin', he's a prospector all the time, 'cause he don't never work—an' that's the way hit goes. An' Microby Dandeline's a-gittin' as triflin' as the rest. Mr. Bethune, he tellin' her how she'd git rich ef she could find a gol' mind, an' how she could buy her some fine clos' like yourn, an' go to the city to live like the folks in the pitchers. Mr. Bethune, he's done found minds. He's rich. An' he's got manners, too. Watts, he's allus makin' light of manners—says they don't 'mount to nawthin'. But thet's 'cause he hain't quality. Quality's got 'em, an' they're nice to hev."
"Gre't sight o' quality—him," growled Watts. "He's part Injun."
"Hit don't make no diff'ence what he's part!" defended the woman. "He's rich, an' he's purty lookin', an' he's got manners like I done tol' yo'. Ef I wus you I'd marry up with him, an——"
"Why, Mrs. Watts! What do you mean?" exclaimed the girl flushing with annoyance.
"Jest what I be'n aimin' to tell yo' fer hit's goin' on quite a spell. Yo'n him 'ud step hit off right pert. Yo' pretty, an' yo' rich, er yo' will be when yo' find yo' pa's mind, an' yo' manners is most as good as his'n."
The humor of the mountain woman's serious effort at match-making struck Patty, and she interrupted with a laugh: "There are several objections to that arrangement," she hastened to say. "In the first place Mr. Bethune has never asked me to marry him. He may have serious objections, and as for me, I'm not ready to even think of marrying."