"We'll drive in in the
car."
"Oh, Uncle Martin," she coaxed innocently, "let me try my luck
alone first. Bill can tell me who the different men are and if I
know he's waiting for me outside in the buggy, it will keep me
from being scared." And her young cousin, only too pleased with
the proposed arrangement, chimed in with: "That's the stuff,
Rose. Folks have got to go it on their own, to get anywhere."
By evening she had a position in an insurance agent's office with
wages upon which she could live with fair decency. As it had
rained all day and her employer wanted her to begin the next
morning, she had the best possible excuse for renting a room in
Fallon and asking Bill to ride in horseback with some things
which she would ask Aunt Rose, over the telephone, to pack. It
rained all the next day, too, and Sunday, when she met Mrs. Wade
and Bill at church, she told them she had some extra typing she
had promised to do by Monday. "No, auntie" this week it is really
and truly just impossible, but next week--honest and true!" she
insisted as the older woman seconded rather impersonally her
son's urgent invitation to chicken and noodles.
Soon winter was upon them in good earnest, and Rose's visits
"home," as she always called it, were naturally infrequent. By
Christmas time, she was receiving attentions from Frank Mall,
Nellie's second son, a young farmer of twenty-five.
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