Her instinct told
her that men could not understand. Unable to bear her father's glad
assurance she said a hasty word about going back and telling Daddy John
and wheeled her horse toward the prairie schooner behind them.
Daddy John welcomed her by pushing up against the roof prop and giving
her two thirds of the driver's seat. With her hands clipped between
her knees she eyed him sideways.
"What do you think's going to happen?" she said, trying to compose her
spirits by teasing him.
"It's going to rain," he answered.
This was not helpful or suggestive of future sympathy, but at any rate,
it was not emotional.
"Now, Daddy John, don't be silly. Would I get off my horse and climb
up beside you to ask you about the weather?"
"I don't know what you'd do, Missy, you've got that wild out here on
the plains--just like a little buffalo calf."
He glimpsed obliquely at her, his old face full of whimsical
tenderness. She smiled bravely and he saw above the smile, her eyes,
untouched by it. He instantly became grave.
"Well, what's goin' to happen?" he asked soberly.
"I'm going to be married.
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