ded patronizingly, but he seemed a little uncomfortable
under his wife's stare of amazement. "But," he added, in a tone meant to
clinch the argument, "she ain't 'Rosebud' no longer."

"Rubbish an' stuff! She's 'Rosebud'--jest 'Rosebud.' An' 'dearest Rosebud'
at that, an' so I've got it," Ma said, hurriedly writing the words as she
spoke. "Now," she went on, looking up, "you can git on wi' the notions to
foller."

Again Rube cleared his throat. Ma watched him, chewing the end of her
penholder the while. The man knocked his pipe out and slowly began to
refill it. He looked out the window into the blackness of the winter
night. His vast face was heavy with thought, and his shaggy gray brows
were closely knit. As she watched, the old woman's bright eyes smiled.
Her thoughts had gone back to their courting days. She thought of the two
or three letters Rube had contrived to send her, which were still
up-stairs in an old trunk containing her few treasures. She remembered
that these letters had, in each case, begun with "Honored Lady." She
wondered where he had obtained the notion which still remained with him
after all these years.

Feeling the silence becoming irksome Rube moved uneasily.

"Y' see it's kind o' del'cate. Don't need handlin' rough," he said. "Seems
you'd best go on like this. Mebbe you ken jest pop it down rough-like an'
fix it after. 'Which it's my painful dooty an' pleasure----'"

"La, but you always was neat at fixin' words, Rube," Ma murmured, while
she proceeded to write. "How's this?" she went on presently, reading what
she had just written. "I'm sorry to have to tell you as Seth's got hurt
pretty bad. He's mighty sick, an' liable to be abed come spring. Pore
feller, he's patient as he always is, but he's all mussed-up an' broken
shocking; shot in the side an' got bones smashed up. Howsum, he's goin' on
all right, an' we hope for the best."

"I 'lows that's neat," Rube said, lighting his pipe. "'Tain't jest what
I'd fancy. Sounds kind o' familiar. An' I guess it's li'ble to scare her
some."

"Well?"

"Wal, I tho't we'd put it easy-like."

Ma looked a little scornful. Rube was certainly lacking in duplicity.

"Say, Rube, you ain't a bit smarter than when you courted me. I jest want
that gal to think it's mighty bad."

"Eh?" Rube stared.

Ma was getting impatient.

"I guess you never could see a mile from your own nose, Rube; you're that
dull an' slow wher' gals is concerned. I'll write this