“Don’t credit _him_ at all,” replied the Major. “Don’t believe him--don’t listen to him. He is green with envy at my success.” And the old fellow shook with amusement. “What did he say? Please tell me.” She appealed to Jeff, and then as he was about to speak, seeing the Major preparing to run, she caught him. “No, you have to listen. Now tell me,” to Jeff again. “Well, he said honey caught lots of flies, and women lots of fools.” Rose fell back, and pointing her tapering finger at the Major, who, with mock humility, was watching her closely, declared that she would “never believe in him again.” The old fellow met her with an unblushing denial of ever having made such a statement or held such traitorous sentiments, as it was, he maintained, a well established fact that flies never eat honey at all. From this moment the Major conceived the idea that Jeff had been caught by his fair visitor. It had never occurred to him that any one could aspire to Margaret’s hand. He had thought at one time that Jeff was in danger of falling a victim to the charms of the pretty daughter of an old friend and neighbor of his, and though it appeared rather a pity for a young fellow to fall in love “out of the State,” yet the claims of hospitality, combined with the fact that rivalry with Mr. Lawrence, against whom, on account of his foppishness, he had conceived some prejudice, promised a delightful excitement, more than counterbalanced that objectionable feature. He therefore immediately constituted himself Jeff’s ardent champion, and always spoke of the latter’s guest as “that fellow Lawrence.” Accordingly, when, one afternoon, on his return from his ride, he found Jeff, who had ridden over to tea, lounging around alone, in a state of mind as miserable as a man should be who, having come with the expectation of basking in the sunshine of Beauty’s smile, finds that Beauty is out horseback riding with a rival, he was impelled to give him aid, countenance, and advice. He immediately attacked him, therefore, on his forlorn and woebegone expression, and declared that at his age he would have long ago run the game to earth, and have carried her home across his saddle-bow. “You are afraid, sir--afraid,” he asserted, hotly. “I don’t know what you fellows are coming to.” Jeff admitted the accusation. “He feared,” he said, “that he could not get a girl to have him.” He was looking rather red when the Major cut him short. “‘Fear,’ sir! Fear catches kicks, not kisses. ‘Not _get_ a girl to have you!’ Well, upon my soul! Why don’t you run after her and bawl like a baby for her to stop, whilst you get down on your knees and--_get_ her to have you!” Jeff was too dejected to be stung even by this unexpected attack. He merely said, dolorously: “Well, how the deuce can it be done?”