Jeff felt, like all quarrel-seekers, righteous or unrighteous, the full burden of the fight. If he could have relieved his mind, and at the next moment leaped upon Yuba Bill's coach, and so passed away--without a further word of explanation--all would have been well. But to walk back with this girl, whom he had just shaken off, and who must now thoroughly hate him, was something he had not preconceived, in that delightful forecast of the imagination, when we determine what WE shall say and do without the least consideration of what may be said or done to us in return. No quarrel proceeds exactly as we expect; people have such a way of behaving illogically! And here was Miss Mayfield, who was clearly derelict, and who should have acted under that conviction, walking along on the other side of the road, trailing the splendor of her parasol in the dust like an offended goddess. 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!” “Going away?” said Mrs. Mayfield in alarm. “Surely he must be told that we expect some preparation for our friends?” “Oh,” said Miss Mayfield quickly, “his aunt will arrange THAT.” Mrs. Mayfield, habitually mystified at her daughter's moods, said no more. She, however, fulfilled her duty conscientiously by rising, throwing a wrap over the young girl, tucking it in at her feet, and having, as it were, drawn a charitable veil over her peculiarities, left her alone.