“That’s just what I think,” exclaimed Rosebud, with a quick laugh. “He made me quite angry some time ago. He means to get me off the farm somehow. And—and—I could just thump him for it.” The girl’s seriousness had passed, and she spoke lightly enough now.
“Men-folk do rile you some,” nodded Ma. But the twinkle had not left her eyes. “But, my girl, I shouldn’t be surprised if Seth’s got mighty good reason. An’ it ain’t to do with his personal feelin’s.”
Rosebud went on with her washing without speaking. She was thinking of that picnic she had taken with Seth and General nearly three weeks ago. It had almost developed into a serious quarrel. It would have done so, only Seth refused to quarrel.
“He said, one day, he thought it was better I should go. Much better,” she said, presently. “Well, it made me angry. I don’t want to go, and I don’t see why Seth should be allowed to order me to go. The farm doesn’t belong to him. Besides——”
“Well, y’ see, Rosebud, you’re forgettin’ Seth 147 brought you here. He’s a kind of father to you.” Ma smiled mischievously in the girl’s direction, but Rosebud was too busy with her own thoughts to heed it.
“He’s not my father, or anything of the kind. He’s just Seth. He’s not thirty yet, and I am eighteen. Pa’s a father to me, and you are my mother. And Seth—Seth’s no relation at all. And I’m just not going to call him ’Daddy’ ever again. It’s that that makes him think he’s got the right to order me about,” she added, as a hasty afterthought.
Further talk was interrupted at that moment by a knock at the back door. Rosebud passed out into the wash-house to answer the summons, and Ma Sampson heard her greet the Indian woman, Wanaha. The old farmwife muttered to herself as she turned back to her work.
“Guess Seth ain’t got the speed of a jibbin’ mule,” she said slowly and emphatically.
The girl did not return, and Ma, looking out of the window, saw the two women walking together, engaged in earnest conversation. She looked from them to the breakfast things, and finally left her own work and finished the washing up herself. It was part of her way to spare Rosebud as much as she could, and the excuse served her now.
While Rosebud was receiving a visit from Wanaha at the back of the house, the men-folk, engaged in off-loading pine logs from a wagon, were receiving visitors at the front of it. The Indian Agent and 148 Mr. Hargreaves had driven up in a buckboard. The Agent’s team was sweating profusely, a fact which the sharp eyes of Seth were quick to detect; also he noted that Parker was driving a team and not the usual one horse.