“I think Mr. Westerfelt is the best man I ever knew, but he must be like his father some, and he told me that his father, who was a captain in the army, refused to ever see his daughter again who married the son of his overseer.  She moved to Texas, and died out there.  Mother, the legitimate daughter of an overseer would stand higher in any Southern community than—­” At this point a sob broke in her voice, and the girl could go no further.  Mrs. Floyd rose and kissed her on the cheek.  “I see,” she said, “that as long as you keep talking about this you will search and search for something to worry about.  I’m glad Mr. Westerfelt knows about it, though, for he would have to be told some day, and now he knows what to count on.  I’ll bet you anything he keeps on loving you, and—­”

“Oh, mother,” broke in Harriet, “I don’t think he lo—­cares that much for me; I really do not.”

Chapter X

“By George!” exclaimed Bradley, as they drove away, “you certainly lit on your feet when you struck that house.  It looks like it ’ud pay you to git stabbed every day in the week; it’s paid the community, the Lord knows, fer it is shet of the biggest dare-devil that wus ever in it.  The ol’ lady seems to have about as bad a case on you as the gal.  I’ve been thar a time or two to ax about you, an’ I never seed the like o’ stirrin’ round fixin’ things they ’lowed would suit yore taste.”

“They have been mighty good to me, indeed,” answered the young man, simply.  “I don’t think I could have had such thoughtful attention, even at home.”

“I don’t like fer anything to puzzle me,” said Luke, with a little laugh, “an’ I’ll swear Miss Harriet’s a riddle.  I would a-swore on the stand a week ago that she wus as big a fool about Wambush as a woman kin git to be, but now—­well, I reckon she’s jest like the rest.  Let the feller they keer fer git a black eye an’ have bad luck, an’ they’ll sidle up to the fust good-lookin’ cuss they come across.  A man that reads novels to git his marryin’ knowledge frum is in pore business; besides the book hain’t writ that could explain a woman unless it is the Great Book, an’ it wouldn’t fit no woman o’ this day an’ time.”

“You think, then, Luke,” said Westerfelt, “that a good woman—­a real good woman—­could love twice in—­in a short space of time?”

“Gewhillikins!  What a question; they kin love a hundred times before you kin say Jack Robinson with yore mouth open.  When you git married, John, you must make up your mind that yo’re marryin’ fer some’n else besides dern foolishness.  The Bible says the prime intention of the business wus to increase an’ multiply; ef you an’ yore wife ever git to multiplyin’, you an’ her won’t find much time to suck thumbs an’ talk love an’ pick flowers an’ press ’em in books an’ the like.  Folks may say what they damn please about women lovin’ the most; it’s the feller mighty nigh ever’ whack