But the brilliancy of his suggestion was lost on Ma, and she urged him further.
“Well?”
“Wal—I’d jest say, ‘Honored Lady,’” he suggested doubtfully.
“Mussy on the man, we’re writin’ to Rosebud!” exclaimed the old woman.
“Sure.” Rube nodded patronizingly, but he seemed a little uncomfortable under his wife’s stare of amazement. “But,” he added, in a tone meant to clinch the argument, “she ain’t ’Rosebud’ no longer.”
“Rubbish an’ stuff! She’s ‘Rosebud’—jest ’Rosebud.’ An’ ’dearest Rosebud’ at that, an’ so I’ve got it,” Ma said, hurriedly writing the words as she spoke. “Now,” she went on, looking up, “you can git on wi’ the notions to foller.”
Again Rube cleared his throat. Ma watched him, chewing the end of her penholder the while. The man knocked his pipe out and slowly began to refill it. He looked out the window into the blackness of the winter night. His vast face was heavy with thought, and his shaggy gray brows were closely knit. As she watched, the old woman’s bright eyes 224 smiled. Her thoughts had gone back to their courting days. She thought of the two or three letters Rube had contrived to send her, which were still up-stairs in an old trunk containing her few treasures. She remembered that these letters had, in each case, begun with “Honored Lady.” She wondered where he had obtained the notion which still remained with him after all these years.
Feeling the silence becoming irksome Rube moved uneasily.
“Y’ see it’s kind o’ del’cate. Don’t need handlin’ rough,” he said. “Seems you’d best go on like this. Mebbe you ken jest pop it down rough-like an’ fix it after. ‘Which it’s my painful dooty an’ pleasure——’”
“La, but you always was neat at fixin’ words, Rube,” Ma murmured, while she proceeded to write. “How’s this?” she went on presently, reading what she had just written. “I’m sorry to have to tell you as Seth’s got hurt pretty bad. He’s mighty sick, an’ liable to be abed come spring. Pore feller, he’s patient as he always is, but he’s all mussed-up an’ broken shocking; shot in the side an’ got bones smashed up. Howsum, he’s goin’ on all right, an’ we hope for the best.”