“I—I thought someway you belonged to—to Silver-Thatch,” she said.
“Silver-Thatch? Who’s Silver-Thatch?”
Molly laughed at the look of surprise she beheld in the other’s eyes.
“Oh, it’s just my fancy,” she said. “The name, I mean. You see, he didn’t hand me his name, an’ I felt mean about it. So I called him ‘Silver-Thatch’ to myself, just to punish him.”
Blanche stood up. Her eyes were smiling very softly.
“You queer child!” she said. “Tell me about him.”
“Oh, it’s just nothing. I was out after my fool cows yesterday. They’d strayed, and Lightning guessed the cattle thieves had them. I was at a water-hole along the creek, away up towards Dan Quinlan’s. While I was there a man came to water his horse. He looked like a city man, an’ he’d a gold watch-chain, an’ a check coat and vest, an’ riding-pants, an’ boots, and—and the whitest hair you’ve ever seen. It was just too lovely. And he’d blue eyes that—that smiled like yours. Well, he rode a piece with me, and when I’d located the cows he passed me a hand rounding them up. And—and then he quit up into the hills westward. And then I remembered I’d handed out my talk to him like a fool kid, and he just hadn’t said a thing of himself. So—so I got mad to myself and called him ‘Silver-Thatch.’ But he didn’t know.”
Blanche took her seat at the table, and her eyes regarded the meal set ready.
“Silver-Thatch,” she said. “It’s—a pretty name. Why, Molly,” she laughed, “I guess your notion of punishment would have delighted him.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t if he’d known how mad I was with myself.”