Seth took refuge in silence. The girl’s words pained him, but he knew that it was only her grief at leaving, and he told himself that her bitterness would soon pass. The pleasure of traveling, of seeing new places, the excitement of her new position would change all that. Receiving no reply Rosebud went on, and her bitterness merged into an assumed brightness which quite deceived her companion.
“Yes,” she continued, “after all it won’t be so dreadful, will it? I can buy lots of nice things, and I shall have servants. And I can go all over the world. No more washing up. And there’ll be parties and dances. And Mr. Irvine said something about estates. I suppose I’ll have a country house—like people in books. Yes, and I’ll marry some one with a title, and wear diamonds. Do you think somebody with a title would marry me, Seth?”
“Maybe, if you asked him.”
“Oh!”
“Wal, you see it’s only fine ladies gits asked by fellers as has titles.”
The dense Seth felt easier in his mind at the girl’s 194 tone, and in his clumsy fashion was trying to join in the spirit of the thing.
“Thank you, I’ll not ask any one to marry me.”
Seth realized his mistake.
“Course not. I was jest foolin’.”
“I know.” Rosebud was smiling, and a dash of mischief was in her eyes as she went on—