"Dick is mad! He got mad when you galloped over where Jo's red ribbon
was hanging onto a bush. I saw him a-scowling when you rolled it up and
put it in your shirt pocket. Dick wanted that ribbon for his bridle; and
you better give it to him. Jo ain't your girl. She's Dick's girl. And
you have to tie the ribbon of your bestest girl on your bridle. That's
why," he added, with belated gallantry, "I tie my own mamma's ribbons on
mine. And," he returned with terrible directness to the real issue,
"Jo's Dick's girl, 'cause he said so. I heard him tell Jim Felton she's
his steady, all right--and you are his girl, ain't you, Jo?"
His mother had tried at first to stop him, had given up in despair, and
was now sitting in a rather tragic calm, waiting for what might come of
his speech.
Josephine might have saved herself some anxious moments, if she had been
so minded; perhaps she would have been minded, if she had not caught
Ford's eyes fixed rather intently upon her, and sensed the expectancy in
them. She bit her lip, and then she laughed.
"A man shouldn't make an assertion of that sort," she said quizzically,
in the direction of Buddy--though her meaning went straight across the
table to another--"unless he has some reason for feeling very sure.
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