The next morning he watched Bates’s office from the stable till he saw the lawyer come down the street and enter.  He waited awhile longer, for he saw Bates go out to the wood-pile and return with an armful of wood.  Presently blue smoke began to rise from the chimney, and Westerfelt went over and rapped on the door.

“Come in!” Bates called out.  Westerfelt found him with his back to the door, sitting over the fire, a leather-bound tome in his lap.

“Hello!” he cried, seeing who it was; “pull up a seat.”

Westerfelt drew a rickety chair from beneath a dusty desk and sat down.

“Did you get home all right?” he asked.

“Yes.”  Bates closed his book, leaving his forefinger in it for a book-mark; he removed his foot from the side of the chimney and cleared his throat.  “Miss Harriet asked me to fetch her home early; dang it!  I believe she would a-stayed longer, but she was sorry for me.”

“Sorry for you—­why?”

“Because she couldn’t see it my way, I reckon.”

“Did she—­refuse you?”

Bates threw his book on a table.  “Do I look like a man that’s goin’ to marry the prettiest and the best girl in the world?  Westerfelt, I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“That’s bad.”

“Looky’ heer, don’t give me any shenanigan; you knowed what she’d do for me.  You knowed mighty well.”

“Me?”

“Yes, dad burn it; you know she loves you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you don’t know it you are a numskull.  She intimated to me that she loved some feller, but that she never intended to marry anybody.  I’m no fool.  I know who she meant.  Look here!” Bates suddenly rose to his feet.  His face was both white and red in splotches.  He grasped the back of his chair with both his hands and leaned on it.  “I’ve heard o’ your doings over the mountain.  She hain’t no kin to me, but I’ll tell you one thing right now, Westerfelt, she’s a good girl, an’ if you trifle with her feelings you’ll have me to whip ur get a licking yorese’f.  I’m talking straight now, man to man.”

Westerfelt rose, and the two men stood side by side, each staring into the other’s face.

“Don’t be a fool,” said Westerfelt, after a slight pause; “don’t meddle with what don’t concern you,” and he turned and left the room.  He had never allowed a man to threaten him in that sort of way, but he was in no frame of mind to quarrel.  Besides, there was something in the lawyer’s defence of Harriet that made him like the fellow.

He was about to cross the street to the stable when he saw Harriet come out of the hotel and trip along the sidewalk towards the store.  She wore no hat or bonnet, but held a handkerchief over her head to protect her face from the sun.  He was sure she saw him, but she did not show any sign of recognition.  He kept on his way, but when she had disappeared in the store he hesitated, then stopped, recrossed the street, and turned into the store after her.  She was standing on the grocery side, tapping the counter with a coin.  Martin Worthy was behind the counter, weighing a package of soda for her.  She flushed red and then paled a little as Westerfelt entered and held out his hand.