“Who said that?” Ruth Mary asked.
“Why, Mr. Kirkwood said it. He's the boss one of the whole lot to my thinkin'. He's got that way with him some folks has! We had some real good talks, evenings, down on the rocks under the old bridge,—I told him about you and Enselman”—
“Father, I wish you hadn't done that.” The protest in Ruth Mary's voice was stronger than her words.
She had become slightly pale when Kirkwood's name was mentioned, but now, as she held out the box with the trinket in it, a deep blush covered her face.
“I cannot take it, father. Not with that message. He can wait till I am married before he sends me his wedding present.”
To her father's amazement, she burst into tears and went out into the shed-room, leaving Kirkwood's ill-timed gift in his hands.
“What in all conscience' sake's got into her?” he demanded of his wife, “to take offense at a little thing like that! She didn't use to be so techy.”
Mrs. Tully nodded her head at him sagely and glanced at the children, a hint that she understood Ruth Mary's state of mind, but could not explain before them.
At bedtime, the father and mother being alone together, Mrs. Tully revealed the cause of her daughter's sensitiveness, according to her theory of it. “She's put out because Joe Enselman chose to wait till spring before marryin', and went off to Montany instead of comin' home as he said he would.”
“Sho, sho!” said Mr. Tully. “That don't seem like Ruth Mary. She ain't in any such a hurry as all that comes to. I've had it on my mind lately that she took it a little too easy.”