slow old
Rube's, was prompted by Seth's manner, which, instinctively, he knew to be
a false one.

Rosebud was patting General's head as he sat at her side. She continued
her caressing, but her eyes, swift and eager but tenderly grave, watched
Seth as he drew out the letter from his pocket and smoothed it upon the
table. There was just the slightest tremor in her hand as it rested on the
dog's head.

"Yup," Seth went on, with a great assumption of unconcern which deceived
nobody. "It's a feller--jest one o' them law fellers. He's comin' right
along to the farm. I 'low he must be nigh here now. He was goin' to git
here Tuesday the 16th--that's to-day."

He was intent on the letter. Nor did he once raise his eyes while he was
speaking. Now he turned the paper as though in search of some detail of
interest.

"Ah," he went on. "Here it is. Says he's hit the trail o' some gal as was
lost. Guesses he'd like to see--Rosebud, an' ask a few questions."

"Seth!"

Ma had risen, and somehow her chair overturned behind her. Her exclamation
was a gasp. Rube stared; he had no words just then. Rosebud continued to
caress the dog, who whined his pleasure at the unusual attention. At last
she turned. For an instant her eyes met Seth's.

"May I read that letter, Seth?" she asked quietly.

"Sure." Seth rose from the table. "Rube," he said, "I'd take it friendly
if you'd fill my pipe." Then he moved across to the window.

Rosebud looked up from reading the letter. She came round to him and
handed it back.

"So my name's Marjorie Raynor?" she said with a queer smile.

Seth nodded.

"And all this money is what you once spoke about?"

Again came Seth's affirmation.

"And how long have you known--that I'm not Rosebud?"

"Got that bit of a letter Saturday."

"But you guessed it long before that--when we were out at the slough?"

"I'd a notion."

The girl glanced round. Ma's face was still in a condition of florid
perplexity. Rube was quietly whittling a match with his tobacco knife.
Rosebud's eyes were very soft as she looked from one to the other.

"And I'm to go away from--here?" she said at last, and her lips were
trembling.

"Guess when a 'stray' comes along we mostly git it back home."

Seth found a lot to interest him in the blank wall of the barn outside the
window.

"But it seems I'm a stray without a home. My father and mother must be
dead."

"Ther's aunts an' things--an' the dollars."

The girl also surv