I wish I could say that he went back to calm his pulses, which the dangerous music of Miss Mayfield's voice had set to throbbing, by a few moments' calm and dispassionate reflection. But he only returned to brush his curls out of his eyes and ears, and to button over his blue flannel shirt a white linen collar, which he thought might better harmonize with Miss Mayfield's attire. She was sitting on the staircase, poking her parasol through the balusters. “You need not have taken that trouble, Mr. Jeff,” she said pleasantly. “YOU are a part of this mountain picture at all times; but I am obliged to think of dress.” “It was no trouble, miss.” Something in the tone of his voice made her look in his face as she rose. It was a trifle paler, and a little older. The result, doubtless, thought Miss Mayfield, of his yesterday's experience with the deputy-sheriff. Such was her rapid deduction. Nevertheless, after the fashion of her sex, she immediately began to argue from quite another hypothesis. “You are angry with me, Mr. Jeff.” “What, I--Miss Mayfield?” “Yes, you!” “Miss Mayfield!” “Oh yes, you are. Don't deny it?” “Upon my soul--” “Yes! You give me punishments and--penances!” Jeff opened his blue eyes on his tormentor. Could Aunt Sally have been saying anything? “If anybody, Miss Mayfield--” he began. “Nobody but you. Look here!” She extended her little hand with a smile. In the centre of her palm lay four shining double B SHOT. “There! I found those in my slipper this morning!” Jeff was speechless. “Of course YOU did it! Of course it was YOU who found my slipper!” said Miss Mayfield, laughing. “But why did you put shot in it, Mr. Jeff? In some Catholic countries, when people have done wrong, the priests make them do penance by walking with peas in their shoes! What have I ever done to you? And why SHOT? They're ever so much harder than peas.” Seeing only the mischievous, laughing face before him, and the open palm containing the damning evidence of the broken Eley's cartridge, Jeff stammered out the truth. “I found the slipper in the bear-skin, Miss Mayfield. I put it in my trunk to keep, thinking yer wouldn't miss it, and it's being a kind of remembrance after you're gone away--of--of the night you came here. Somebody moved the trunk in my room,” and he hung his head here. “The things inside all got mixed up.” “And that made you change your mind about keeping it?” said Miss Mayfield, still smiling. “No, miss.” “What was it, then?” “I gave it back to you, Miss Mayfield, because I was going away.” “Indeed! Where?” “I'm going to find another location. Maybe you've noticed,” he continued, falling back into his old apologetic manner in spite of his pride of resolution--“maybe you've noticed that this place here has no advantages for a hotel.” “I had not, indeed. I have been very comfortable.” “Thank you, miss.” “When do you go?” “To-night.”