“Brave!” Mrs. Fleetwood laughed rather contemptuously, for a bride. “Please to understand, Manley, that I'm not frightened in the least. It's you and that horrid cowboy--_I_ don't see why we need run away, like criminals. Those men don't intend to _murder_ us, do they?” Her mood softened a little, and she squeezed his arm between her hands. “You dear old silly, I'm not blaming _you_. With your head in such a state, you can't think things out properly, and you let that cowboy influence you against your better judgment. You're afraid I might be annoyed--but, really, Manley, this silly idea of running away annoys me much more than all the noise those fellows could possibly make. Indeed, I don't think I would mind--it would give me a glimpse of the real West; and, perhaps, if they grew too boisterous, and I spoke to them and asked them not to be quite so rough--and, really, they only mean it as a sort of welcome, in their crude way. We could invite some of the nicest in to have cake and coffee--or maybe we might get some ice cream somewhere--and it might turn out a very pleasant little affair. I don't mind meeting them, Manley. The worst of them can't be as bad as that--but, of course, if he's your friend, I suppose I oughtn't to speak too freely my opinion of him!” Fleetwood held her closely, patted her cheek absently, and tried to think of some effective argument. “They'll be drunk, sweetheart,” he told her, after a silence. “I don't think so,” she returned firmly. “I have been watching the street all the evening. I saw any number of men passing back and forth, and I didn't see one who staggered. And they were all very quiet, considering their rough ways, which one must expect. Why, Manley, you always wrote about these Western men being such fine fellows, and so generous and big-hearted, under their rough exterior. Your letters were full of it--and how chivalrous they all are toward nice women.” She laid her head coaxingly against his shoulder. “Let's go back, Manley. I--_want_ to see a _charivari_, dear. It will be fun. I want to write all about it to the girls. They'll be perfectly wild with envy.” She struggled with her conventional upbringing. “And even if some of them are slightly under the influence--of liquor, we needn't _meet_ them. You needn't introduce those at all, and I'm sure they will understand.”