Dawn laughted bitterly.
“I wonder what’s got into ’em? Why don’t they come to me, I wonder?”
“Jimmy come to you, eh?”
“Yes,” softly.
“Roarin’ come to you, Dawn?”
“No.”
“He not come to nobody—jus’ come. Good man.”
“Yes, he’s a good man, mother; but I don’t want to marry him. Oh, I don’t want to marry anybody.”
Her mother looked at her keenly for several moments.
“I guess you marry man you want,” she said slowly. “Peter have trial next week. Mose hire good lawyer. Mebby I tell judge what Ryker say. Here come Mose now.”