"I've come to see if I can get my meals here," he said. "It is near my place of business, and I've heard a lot of good things about your mother's table." "We always have plenty of room," she answered, simply. "Mother will be glad to have you. Won't you take a seat?" She sat down on the sofa and he took a chair opposite her. "I suppose you enjoyed the party last night," he said, tentatively. He fancied she raised her brows a little and glanced at him rather steadily, but she looked down when she replied. "Yes; Mrs. Bradley always gives us a good time." "But you were not dancing." "No, I don't care much for it, and Toot--Mr. Wambush--had sprained his foot and said he'd rather not dance." "That was very kind of you. Not many girls would be so considerate of a fellow's feelings." She looked down at a brindled cat that came into the room and rubbed its side against her skirt. "I don't think girls care enough about the feelings of men," she answered, after a little pause. "If they would treat them nicer they would be better." "You think women can reform men then?" "Yes, I do; though a man that drinks is mighty hard to manage. Sometimes they can't help it, and they drink more when women show that they have lost confidence in them." He liked what she had said, notwithstanding its being an indirect defence of Wambush, but was prevented from answering by hearing his name angrily called in the street. This was followed by heavy footsteps on the veranda. "Whar is that d----d livery man?" The voice was now in the hall. "It's Toot Wambush!" cried the girl, rising quickly and turning to the door. "I am afraid he--" Just then the young ruffian entered. His red face and unsteady walk showed that he had been drinking. "Say, Miss Harriet, have you seed--oh, heer you are!"--he broke off as he noticed Westerfelt. "You are the one man in the United Kingdom that I want to see jest at this present moment. Bill Washburn 'lowed he had orders from you not to let me have anything out'n yore shebang; is that so?" "I'd rather not talk business here," replied Westerfelt. He rose and coolly looked Wambush in the face. "If you say so, we'll walk across to the stable." "No," sneered Wambush, "this heer's good enough fur me; I hain't got no secrets frum them mount'in men out thar nur this young lady. I jest want ter know now--right _now_, by Glory! ef you ever give sech orders." "Do you think this is a proper place to settle such a matter?" calmly asked Westerfelt. "D----d you; you are a coward; you are afeerd to say so!" Harriet Floyd, with a white, startled face, tried to slip between the two men, but Wambush roughly pushed her aside. "You _are_ afeerd!" he repeated, shaking his fist in Westerfelt's face.