The man’s brown eyes looked over at the girl as she plied her knife and fork.
“Maybe,” he went on, a moment later, “ther’ ain’t no need to spend them twenty dollars. I’ve got some. Say, you talk to Ma an’ fix the letter an’ I’ll mail it.”
The girl looked up. Seth’s kindness had banished 131 the ready laugh for the moment. If her tongue remained silent her eyes spoke. But Seth was concerned with his food and saw nothing. Rosebud did not even tender thanks. She felt that she could not speak thanks at that moment. Her immediate inclination was a childish one, but the grown woman in her checked it. A year ago she would have acted differently. At last Seth broke the silence.
“Say, Rosebud,” he said. “How’d you like a heap o’ dollars?”
But the girl’s serious mood had not yet passed. She held out her plate to General, and replied, without looking at her companion.
“That depends,” she said. “You see, I wouldn’t like to marry a man with lots of money. Girls who do are never happy. Ma said so. The only other way to have money is by being clever, and writing, or painting, or play-acting. And I’m not clever, and don’t want to be. Then there are girls who inherit money, but——”
“That’s jest it,” broke in Seth.
“Just what?” Rosebud turned from the dog and eyed her companion curiously.
“Why, s’pose it happened you inherited them dollars?”
“But I’m not likely to.”