I wonder where I could find the boss ?" Bud was glancing often at her hands.

For a ranch girl her hands were soft and white, but her fingers were a bit too stubby and her nails were too round and flat.
"Uncle Dave will be home at noon.

He's out in the meadow with the boys.
You might sit down and wait." Bud looked at his watch.

Sitting down and waiting for four hours did not appeal to him, even supposing the girl would keep him company.

But he lingered awhile, leaning with his elbows on the counter near her; and by those obscure little conversational trails known to youth, he progressed considerably in his acquaintance with the girl and made her smile often without once feeling quite certain that he knew what was in her mind.
He discovered that her name was Honora Krause, and that she was called Honey "for short." Her father had been Dutch and her mother a Yankee, and she lived with her uncle, Dave Truman, who owned Little Lost ranch, and took care of the mail for him, and attended to the store--which was nothing more than a supply depot kept for the accommodation of the neighbors.