ates caught his arm firmly.

"I'm no fool," he said, impatiently. "Dad burn it, you _do_ love her.
I see it! You are trying to throw me off the track! Look heer! If
you've lied to me--" Voices were heard in the bushes up the road.
Jennie Wynn and Harriet were approaching. "There they are now!"
exclaimed Bates, in another tone; "you have not been open with me; for
God's sake, don't keep me in suspense! Is she _yours_? Answer that!"

"I have never asked her." Westerfelt spoke through tight lips. "I've
no claim on her."

"Well, then, it's as fair for one of us as the other." Bates was half
angry. "We both want her; let's have it over with. Let's speak out
now an' let her take her choice. If she takes you, you may drive her
home; ef it's me--well, you bet it'll make a man of me. She is the
finest girl on God's green earth. Here they come! What do you say?"

Westerfelt drew his arm from Bates's grasp, and stared at him with eyes
which seemed paralyzed.

"Don't mention me to her," he demanded, coldly. "I'll manage my own
affairs."

"All right," Bates lowered his voice, for the two girls were now quite
near; "you may be sure of your case, and I may be making a blamed fool
of myself, but she's worth it."

"What are you two confabbin' about?" cried Jennie, in a merry voice.
Neither of the men answered. Harriet looked curiously at them, her
glance resting last and longer on the lawyer. That encouraged him to
speak.

"I want to see you a minute, Miss Harriet," he said, reaching out for
her sunshade. "May I?"

"Certainly," she said, looking at him in slow surprise. She
relinquished her umbrella, and they walked off together.

"What on earth is the matter with that man?" asked Jennie, her eyes on
the receding couple; then she glanced at Westerfelt, and added, with a
little giggle, "What's the matter with _you_?"

Westerfelt seemed not to hear.

"Mr. Bates looks like he's lost his best friend," went on the
irrepressible girl. "Look how he wabbles; he walks like he was
following a plough in new ground. I wouldn't want him to swing my
parasol about that way. What do you reckon ails him?"

"I don't know," said Westerfelt. Her words irritated him like the
persistent buzzing of a mosquito.

"I wonder if that fellow is goose enough to go an' fall in love with
Harriet."

"What if he should?" Westerfelt was interested.

"She hain't in love with him."

"How do you know?"

"How do I _know_? B