“No, I don't.”
“Then it is Rose,” said Sylvia. “Pretty work, I call it. Here she is with her own folks in this nice home, with everything she needs.”
Henry looked at Sylvia with astonishment. “Why,” he said, “girls get married! You got married yourself.”
“I know I did,” said Sylvia, “but that hasn't got anything to do with it. Of course he has to chase her the minute she comes within gunshot.”
“Still, there's one thing certain, if she doesn't want him he can take it out in chasing, if he is chasing, and I don't think he is,” said Henry. “Nobody is going to make Rose marry any man.”
“She don't act a mite in love with him,” said Sylvia, ruminatingly. “She seemed real mad with him this noon about that candy. Henry, that was a funny thing for him to do.”
“What?” asked Henry, who had so far only gotten Rose's rather vague account of the candy episode.
Sylvia explained. “He actually knocked that candy out of her hand, and made her spill the whole box, and then trampled on it. I saw him.”
Henry stared at Sylvia. “It must have been an accident,” said he.
“It looked like an accident on purpose,” said Sylvia. “Well, I guess I'll go out and make some of that salad they like so much for supper.”