Seth looked gravely at the girl’s laughing face.
“Guess you’d best come on home. Mebbe your feet are wet.”
Thus, after months of parting, despite the changed conditions of the girl’s life, the old order was resumed. Rosebud accepted Seth’s domination as though it was his perfect right. Without one word or thought of protest she walked at his side. In silence he helped her over the broken trail to the home she had so long known and still claimed. Once only was that silence broken. It was when the girl beheld the fortified appearance of the farm. She put her question in a low, slightly awed tone.
“What’s all this for, Seth?” she asked. She knew, but she felt that she must ask.
“Them logs?” The man responded indifferently.
“Yes, that stockade.”
“Oh, jest nothin’. Y’ see we need a bit o’ fence-like.”
Rosebud looked at him from out of the corners of her eyes as she trudged at his side.
“I’m glad I came, Seth. I’m just in time. Poor auntie!”
The next moment her arms were around Ma Sampson’s neck, hugging the old woman, who had heard of the girl’s arrival from Rube and had come out to meet her.