“I reckon Rosebud’ll take to it later on,” he said quietly.
“When she’s married.”
“Ye-es.”
Seth watched the needle pass through and through the wool on its rippling way. And his thoughts were of a speculative nature.
“She’s a grown woman now,” said Mrs. Sampson, after a while.
“That’s so.”
“An’ she’ll be thinkin’ of ’beaus,’ or I’m no prophet.”
“Time enough, Ma.”
“Time? I guess she’s goin’ on eighteen. Maybe you don’t know a deal o’ gals, boy.”
The bright face looked up. One swift glance at her companion and she was bending over her work again.