Rosebud listened with a queer stirring at her heart, yet she could not repress the impatience she felt at the calm matter-of-fact manner in which the threat was made. The one redeeming point about it was that she knew one of Seth's quiet assurances to be far more certain, far more deadly, than anybody's else wildest spoken threats. However, she laughed as she answered him. "Well, you won't have to cross the ocean to find the man I marry. I'm not going to England again, except, perhaps, on a business visit. I intend to stay here, unless Pa and Ma turn me out." Seth caught his breath. For a second his whole face lit up. "Say, I didn't jest take you right," he said. "You're goin' to stay right here?" Rosebud gave a joyous little nod. She had stirred Seth out of his usual calm. There was no mistaking the light in his hollow eyes. He made no movement, he spoke as quietly as ever, but the girl saw something in his eyes that set her heart beating like a steam hammer. The next moment she was chilled as though she had received a cold douche. "Wal, I'm sorry," he went on imperturbably. "Real sorry. Which I mean lookin' at it reas'nable. 'Tain't right. You belong ther'. Ther's your folk an' your property, an' the dollars. You jest ought to fix up wi' some high soundin' feller----" "Seth, mind your own business!" Rosebud's exasperation broke all bounds. If a look could have withered him Seth would have shriveled to bare bones. The next moment the girl's lips trembled and two big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She urged her horse ahead of her companion and kept that lead until they had crossed the bridge. Seth's eyes, busy in every other direction, had failed to witness her distress, just as he failed to take any heed of her words. "You see, Rosie, ther's a heap o' trouble comin' along here," he said presently, when he had drawn level. "Yes," the girl replied, without turning her head; "and I'm going to stay for it. Auntie can go back when she likes, but this is my home, and--Seth, why do you always want to be rid of me?" Seth remained silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a voice that was a little unsteady. "I don't want to be rid of you, Rosie. No; I'm jest thinkin' of you," he added. The old impulsive Rosebud was uppermost in an instant. She turned on him, and reached out a hand which he took in both of his. "Seth, you are a dear, and I'm sorry for being so rude to you. It's always been like this, hasn't it? You've always thought of me, for me. I wish, sometimes, you wouldn't think--for me." She withdrew her hand, and, touching her horse with her heel, galloped on toward the farm, leaving Seth to come on behind. She gave him no chance of overtaking her this time.