For several minutes Jeanne Dudley remained sitting on the box under the laurel. Then, having regained her composure, she started to rise. A man suddenly stepped around a thick fringe of shrubbery, vaulted lightly over the low fence, and stood before her. Her startled eyes met the leering gaze of “Wasp” Williams. “Evening, Jeanne,” he said. He lifted his hat and swept it almost to the ground in his usual mocking manner. The girl stepped back a pace. Her face alternately flamed and paled. “Don’t seem to be particular cordial in welcomin’ your guests,” he grinned, putting the hat on again. “Thought all us Southerners had the name o’ bein’ mighty generous that-away!” “Apparently,” she answered through set teeth, “you have forgotten what I told you some time ago.” “You can’t kill with conversation,” he replied calmly. “So I guess you’ll jest have to have a nice little chat with me instead.” The girl’s hand dropped quickly to her waist, and she reddened. In her hurry to come out, she had not thought to strap on her belt and revolver! “No, I ain’t goin’ to forgit what you said,” he continued. “An’ what’s more, I ain’t goin’ to forgit what I seen out here on the road a few minutes ago, either!” During the last few years, Jeanne Dudley had undergone hard training in a rough school. Many things had been indelibly graven on her mind that had had little effect upon her in her untroubled, girlhood days in the far Southland. Not the least important of these was the value of keeping cool under all circumstances, and steeling the face never to betray the thought that lay behind it. But the remark of the man before her was a bolt from the blue; and the significant tone in which he made it was not to be misunderstood. For an instant, in spite of herself, her eyes were wide and frightened. “Well, what do you think you can do about it?” she asked coolly. “By the way, I understand that you and some of your friends are going to leave town to-day or to-morrow.” The ugly grin vanished from his lips. “I wouldn’t risk no dust on that,” he remarked scowling. He stared silently at the lovely, scornful face before him for several moments. His expression slowly changed. Finally, he came a step nearer. “Listen, Jeanne,” he said in an oddly pleading tone, “I—I ain’t a-goin’ to do nothin’ about it—give you my word for it—if—if—” “What?” The question cut through his sentence like a knife. “—if you—treat me right! I ain’t never done nothin’ to you to git treated like—a dog! Ain’t I al’ays been respectful an’—an’ decent?” “Oh, remarkably so!” Her voice was so soft, her face became so pleasant, that he was actually deceived. “You have always been a gentleman, at the least! Really, I _have_ been rather unkind to you, haven’t I?”