“It would be awful if a girl had to ask some one to marry her, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure.”
Seth moved out into the passage; the last horse was bedded down, and they stood together leaning on their forks.
“The man would be a silly, wouldn’t he?”
“A reg’lar hobo.”
“What’s a ’hobo,’ Seth?”
“Why, jest a feller who ain’t got no ‘savee.’”
“‘Savee’ means ’sense,’ doesn’t it?” Rosebud’s eyes were innocently inquiring, and they gazed blandly up into the man’s face.
“Wal, not exac’ly. It’s when a feller don’t git a notion right, an’ musses things up some.” They were walking toward the barn door now. Seth was about to go up to the loft to throw down hay. “Same as when I got seein’ after the Injuns when I ought to’ve stayed right here an’ seen you didn’t go sneakin’ off by y’self down by the river,” he added slyly, with one of his rare smiles.
The girl laughed and clapped her hands.