"Do you remember your mother--MR.--MR.--BRIGGS?"

Jeff noticed the new epithet. "No, miss; she died when I was quite
young."

"Your father, then?"

Jeff's eye kindled a little, aggressively. "I remember HIM."

"What was he?"

"Miss Mayfield!"

"What was his business or profession?"

"He--hadn't--any!"

"Oh, I see--a gentleman of property."

Jeff hesitated, looked at Miss Mayfield hurriedly, colored, and did not
reply.

"And lost his property, Mr. Briggs?" With one of those rare impulses of
an overtasked gentle nature, Jeff turned upon her almost savagely. "My
father was a gambler, and shot himself at a gambling table."

Miss Mayfield rose hurriedly. "I--I beg your pardon, Mr. Jeff."

Jeff was silent.