Throwing down Tigre, I sprang up, and hastily shaking the hay from my dress, and pushing back my disordered hair, prepared myself for the lecture I knew I deserved, and "cut and dried" a very impertinent rejoinder. I might have saved myself the trouble; Mr. Rutledge did not take any more notice of me than if I had been Tigre's four-legged and shaggy compatriot. Passing through the barn, he called up one of the men, and gave him orders about the storing of some grain; sent for another upon the question of supplies; talked with Stephen about the state of the grape-vines; with Michael about the condition of the colts; inspected the poultry-yard; pronounced upon the cattle; equally a connoisseur, and thoroughly at home on every point. During this time, I leaned thoughtfully against the barn door, and reviewed my own conduct, and that of Mr. Rutledge. Of course, I had been unladylike and all that--I knew it as well as anybody; but then, I was old enough to do as I liked, and who had a right to reprove me? Well, nobody _had_ reproved me. But then, I knew just as well what he thought of me; I knew he considered me rude, disrespectful, childish; and it would have been ten times less hateful of him to have been angry and done with it, than to have taken no notice of me in any way, just as if he had at once dropped me out of his esteem, consideration and recollection altogether. Angry, humbled, but rebellious, I lingered a long while near him, with a hope that he would say something that I could resent, but no such chance was afforded me. Mr. Rutledge's whole mind was given to his business; and sullenly enough, I called to Tigre and turned toward the house. It was unlucky that I did not know how to whistle--I longed to whistle a tune, and put my hands in my pockets with a jaunty and defiant air as I passed Mr. Rutledge on my way to the house. As it was, I was obliged to content myself with the significant attitude alone, that was meant to convey tones of don't-care sauciness and indifference. I did not feel at all like going indoors when I reached the house, though it was growing dark very rapidly; and with Tigre at my heels, paced for a long while up and down the stone walk before the steps of the piazza. The sound of Mr. Rutledge's approaching footsteps, far from checking my walk, quickened it considerably, and calling to Tigre, just as he reached the terrace, I started at a brisk pace down the avenue. Mr. Rutledge stopped and called me; I went on, pretending not to hear. He called again, and this time there was no avoiding it. I turned sharply round and said: "Did you speak, sir?" "It is too late for you to be out; you will take cold." "I am not afraid, sir, I shall soon be in;" and I turned away. "But it is too late," repeated Mr. Rutledge, in a voice I could not mistake. "You must excuse my interference, but I should prefer your coming in now."