“That’s so. But we know your folks must a’ been rich by your silk fixin’s. Guess you ain’t thought o’ your folks.”
The girl’s sunburnt face took on a confident little 132 smile as she looked out from under the wide brim of her hat.
“Oh, yes, I have. I’ve thought a lot. Where are they, and why don’t they come out and look for me? I can’t remember them, though I try hard. Every time I try I go back to Indians—always Indians. I know I’m not an Indian,” she finished up naïvely.
“No.” Seth lit his pipe. “Guess if we did find ’em you’d have to quit the farm.”
There was a short silence.
“Seth, you’re always looking for them, I know. Why do you look for them? I don’t want them.” Rosebud was patting the broad back of General. “Do you know, sometimes I think you want to be rid of me. I’m a trouble to you, I know.”
“’Tain’t that exactly.”
Seth’s reply sounded different to what he intended. It sounded to the girl as if he really was seeking her parents to be rid of her. And his manner was so deliberate, so short. She scrambled to her feet without a word, and began to gather up the dishes. Seth smoked on for a moment or two. But as Rosebud showed no sign of continuing the conversation he, too, rose in silence, and went over to Hesper and hitched her to the buckboard. Then he came back and carried the dinner-box to the vehicle, while Rosebud mounted to the driving-seat.
“Seth,” she said, and her face was slightly flushed, and a little sparkle of resentment was in her eyes, “when you find them I’ll go away. I never looked 133 at it as you do. Yes, I think I should like that heap of dollars.”
Seth smiled slowly. But he didn’t quite understand her answer.