“How can you say that you hate him when you have not even seen him, child?” argued the old housekeeper. “But I have seen him,” replied the girl, with a toss of her jetty curls; “I was in the hay field when he came along the road, and I had a very good look at him.” Jess did not add that she was surprised beyond all words to behold in him the ill-tempered stranger with whom she had had the encounter a few days before. She wisely refrained from mentioning anything concerning the affair to Mrs. Bryson, in anticipation of the scolding she would be sure to receive. Perhaps Mr. John Dinsmore would fail to recognize in her the assailant who had given him a little of his own medicine for abusing the old horse that was fairly staggering under him. “There isn’t a young girl in all Louisiana who would not be delighted to stand in your shoes,” declared the old housekeeper, energetically; “he is well worth the winning, and as handsome as a prince. And remember, besides all that, your benefactor, Mr. Dinsmore, who kept this roof over your head for so many years, set his heart and soul upon your fancying each other.” “Would they be glad to stand in the slippers I am wearing at the present time, as well as in my shoes?” queried Jess, with a flippant laugh. “And as to the last part of your remark, Mrs. Bryson, a girl can’t like a young man simply because he has been picked out for her by somebody who has no idea of her likes and dislikes. Kissing goes by favor, you know.” “You would exasperate a saint, girl,” cried the housekeeper, “do not fly in the face of your good fortune, but make the most of such a grand opportunity of winning a handsome young husband, and a fine fortune, at one and the same time.” CHAPTER XIV. A FATEFUL MEETING. It was with evident satisfaction that the false John Dinsmore looked about the elegantly appointed suite of rooms when he found himself alone in them. The open windows looked out upon the eastern terrace, which was delightfully cool and shady this warm afternoon, with the odor of the tall pines and of the great beds of flowers floating in on the breeze. He threw himself down in a cushioned chair by the window; and as he sat there, quietly reflecting for an hour or more, he could not make out why the elder Dinsmore had made it imperative in his will that his nephew must marry that freak of a girl, Jess, if he would inherit his millions. He was aroused from his meditations by the sound of the dinner bell. “There’s not a particle of use in making any change in my toilet because of the freak, or the old housekeeper--these backwoods people would not know the difference between a _négligée_ and a regulation dinner costume, I’ll be bound.” He had a good appetite, and responded to the summons with alacrity. He was not surprised to find Mrs. Bryson only in the great paneled dining-room.