sing life, and liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness."

"So you bought yourself free?" said Virginia. "If your substitute gets
killed, I suppose you will have cause for congratulation."

Eliphalet laughed, and pulled down his cuffs. "That's his lookout, I
cal'late," said he. He glanced at the girl in a way that made her vaguely
uneasy. She turned from him, back toward the summer house. Eliphalet's
eyes smouldered as they rested upon her figure. He took a step forward.

"Miss Jinny?" he said.

"Yes?"

"I've heard considerable about the beauties of this place. Would you mind
showing me 'round a bit?" Virginia started. It was his tone now. Not
since that first evening in Locust Street had it taken on such assurance,
And yet she could not be impolite to a guest.

"Certainly not," she replied, but without looking up. Eliphalet led the
way. He came to the summer house, glanced around it with apparent
satisfaction, and put his foot on the moss-grown step. Virginia did a
surprising thing. She leaped quickly into the doorway before him, and
stood facing him, framed in the climbing roses.

"Oh, Mr. Hopper!" she cried. "Please, not in here." He drew back, staring
in astonishment at the crimson in her face.

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously--almost brutally. She had been groping
wildly for excuses, and found none.

"Because," she said, "because I ask you not to." With dignity: "That
should be sufficient."

"Well," replied Eliphalet, with an abortive laugh, "that's funny, now.
Womenkind get queer notions, which I cal'late we've got to respect and
put up with all our lives--eh?"

Her anger flared at his leer and at his broad way of gratifying her whim.
And she was more incensed than ever at his air of being at home--it was
nothing less.

The man's whole manner was an insult. She strove still to hide her
resentment.

"There is a walk along the bluff," she said, coldly, "where the view is
just as good."

But she purposely drew him into the right-hand path, which led, after a
little, back to the house. Despite her pace he pressed forward to her
side.

"Miss Jinny," said he, precipitately, "did I ever strike you as a
marrying man?"

Virginia stopped, and put her handkerchief to her face, the impulse
strong upon her to laugh. Eliphalet was suddenly transformed again into
the common commercial Yankee. He was in love, and had come to ask her
advice. She might have known it.

"I never thought of you as of the marrying