“Oh, Seth!” she cried, as she moved out to return 195 to the house, “then you’re a regular ’hobo.’ What a joke!”
And she ran off, leaving the man mystified.
Rosebud and the lawyer left the following morning. Never had such good fortune caused so much grief. It was a tearful parting; Ma and Rosebud wept copiously, and Rube, too, was visibly affected. Seth avoided everybody as much as possible. He drove the conveyance into Beacon Crossing, but, as they were using the lawyer’s hired “democrat,” he occupied the driving-seat with the man who had brought the lawyer out to the farm. Thus it was he spoke little to Rosebud on the journey.
Later, at the depot, he found many things to occupy him and only time to say “good-bye” at the last moment, with the lawyer looking on.
The girl was on the platform at the end of the sleeping-car when Seth stepped up to make his farewell.
“Good-bye, little Rosebud,” he said, in his quiet, slow manner. His eyes were wonderfully soft. “Maybe you’ll write some?”
The girl nodded. Her violet eyes were suspiciously bright as she looked frankly up into his face.
“I hope we shall both be happy. We’ve done our duty, haven’t we?” she asked, with a wistful little smile.
“Sure,” replied Seth, with an ineffective attempt at lightness.
The girl still held his hand and almost imperceptibly 196 drew nearer to him. Her face was lifted to him in a manner that few would have mistaken. But Seth gently withdrew his hand, and, as the train began to move, climbed down and dropped upon the low platform.