“I picked YOU up?” repeated the astonished Alice. “Yes, CONTRADICTED me: that's what I mean,--once when you said those rocks were volcanic, once when you said the flower you picked was a poppy. I didn't let on at the time, for it wasn't my say; but all the while you were talking I might have laid for you--” “I don't understand you,” said Alice haughtily. “I might have entrapped you before folks. But I only want you to know that I'M right, and here are the books to show it.” He drew aside the dingy calico curtain, revealed a small shelf of bulky books, took down two large volumes,--one of botany, one of geology,--nervously sought his text, and put them in Alice's outstretched hands. “I had no intention--” she began, half-proudly, half-embarrassedly. “Am I right, miss?” he interrupted. “I presume you are, if you say so.” “That's all, ma'am. Thank you!” Before the girl had time to reply, he was gone. When he again returned, it was with her horse, and Mrs. Rightbody and Ryder were awaiting her. But Miss Alice noticed that his own horse was missing. “Are you not going with us?” she asked. “No, ma'am.” “Oh, indeed!” Miss Alice felt her speech was a feeble conventionalism; but it was all she could say. She, however, DID something. Hitherto it had been her habit to systematically reject his assistance in mounting to her seat. Now she awaited him. As he approached, she smiled, and put out her little foot. He instantly stooped; she placed it in his hand, rose with a spring, and for one supreme moment Stanislaus Joe held her unresistingly in his arms. The next moment she was in the saddle; but in that brief interval of sixty seconds she had uttered a volume in a single sentence,-- “I hope you will forgive me!” He muttered a reply, and turned his face aside quickly as if to hide it. Miss Alice cantered forward with a smile, but pulled her hat down over her eyes as she joined her mother. She was blushing. PART III. Mr. Ryder was as good as his word. A day or two later he entered Mrs. Rightbody's parlor at the Chrysopolis Hotel in Stockton, with the information that he had seen the mysterious senders of the despatch, and that they were now in the office of the hotel waiting her pleasure. Mr. Ryder further informed her that these gentlemen had only stipulated that they should not reveal their real names, and that they be introduced to her simply as the respective “Seventy-Four” and “Seventy-Five” who had signed the despatch sent to the late Mr. Rightbody. Mrs. Rightbody at first demurred to this; but, on the assurance from Mr. Ryder that this was the only condition on which an interview would be granted, finally consented. “You will find them square men, even if they are a little rough, ma'am. But, if you'd like me to be present, I'll stop; though I reckon, if ye'd calkilated on that, you'd have had me take care o' your business by proxy, and not come yourself three thousand miles to do it.”