They had almost reached the house. "At what time do you go, Mr. Briggs?"
asked the young lady quietly.

"At eleven to-night, by the up stage."

"I expect some friends by that stage--coming with my father."

"My aunt will take good care of them," said Jeff, a little bitterly.

"I have no doubt," responded Miss Mayfield gravely; "but I was not
thinking of that. I had hoped to introduce them to you to-morrow. But
I shall not be up so late to-night. And I had better say good-by to you
now."

She extended the unkissed hand. Jeff took it, but presently let the limp
fingers fall through his own.

"I wish you good fortune, Mr. Briggs."

She made a grave little bow, and vanished into the house. But here,
I regret to say, her lady-like calm also vanished. She upbraided her
mother peevishly for obliging her to seek the escort of Mr. Briggs in
her necessary exercise, and flung herself with an injured air upon the
sofa.

"But I thought you liked this Mr. Briggs. He seems an accommodating sort
of person."

"Very accommodating. Going away just as we are expecting company!"