would have been fascinated at the
idea of a _tete-a-tete_ with this interesting, stalwart man of the
mountains. But something in his manner, and her own overwrought nerves,
told her there was trouble ahead. Should she run away, should she use a
woman's wiles in self-defense, or should she confide in this handsome
man? Distracted by these conflicting thoughts, she presented a charming
picture of alarmed innocence, as Bailey thought; and his heart yearned
to offer protection.

"Miss Slocum, I don't know how to put it, and I don't know what mean
things you are going to think of me"--

And now Mamie began to sympathize with the big stage-driver, who seemed
as much embarrassed as she.

"The fact is, Mr. Francis asked me to see you."

"Mr. Francis is a good friend of mine. He secured the school at
Graniteville for me."

Bailey, grateful for this help, continued:

"He thought I might inquire about a matter"--

"Heavens!" thought Mamie, "does Mr. Francis know about my trouble? Mat
Bailey must have told him!" If her intuition guided her truly in this
matter, it no less truly recognized a friend in Mat.

"The fact is"--he began, and then he hesitated. "Damn it!" he thought,
"how could he say things that would hurt this lovely creature?"

"Mr. Bailey, I think I know what you mean. You want to know why I told
that robber about Mr. Cummins's valise. It has nearly worried me to
death; and I don't wonder you all demand an explanation."

"Don't put it that way, I beg of you, Miss Slocum!" exclaimed Mat,
greatly relieved that she had come to his rescue, but no less greatly
concerned that he should appear in the hateful character of accuser and
informer. "We don't demand anything. We know you didn't have anything to
do with those robbers. Mr. Cummins was a friend of yours; and you
wouldn't do nothing to injure an enemy!"

Mat could use negatives properly when not excited.

The conversation was becoming less and less interesting to the little
man in the cellar. But it was not easy to beat a retreat.

Mamie began to weep softly, but more from joy than otherwise. After the
strain of the past week these honest words of Mat were balm to her.

"I--I will tell you everything, Mr. Bailey. Oh, how I have wanted to
talk to some friend about it! But it was so dreadful! I couldn't breathe
a word of it even to Mother."

Mat was all tenderness now; and the man under the floor began to prick
up his ears.

"I was talking with a young