“I’m not a ladies’ man,” continued Bates, with a kick at another soft spot on the log.  “I’m jest a plain Cohutta Mountain, jack-leg lawyer.  I’ve not been much of a hand to go to the shindigs the young folks have been gitting up about heer.  One reason was I couldn’t afford it, another was I didn’t have the time to spare, so I haven’t never paid court to any special young lady in Cartwright.  But now, I think I am in purty good shape to marry.  I believe all young men ought to get ’em a wife, an’ if I ever intend to do the like, I’ll have to be about it, for I’m no spring chicken.  Now, to make a long story short, I’ve taken a strong liking to the girl I fetched out here to-day, an’, by George, now that I’ve got headed that way, I simply can’t wait any longer, nor hold in either.  I intend to ask her to be my wife if—­” he began again to kick the log.  “Dang it, it seems to me—­you see, I know that she don’t care a rap for Wambush; a few of us thought thar was something between ’em once, but since he went off it is as plain as day that she is not grieving after him.  But, somehow, it seems to me that she may have a hankering after you.  I don’t know why I think so, but if thar is any understanding between you two I’d take it as a great favor if you’d let me know it, right now at the start.  I’ll wish you well—­but I’d like to know it.  It’s a powerful big thing to me, Westerfelt—­the biggest thing I ever tackled yet.”

Westerfelt’s face was hard and expressionless.  He avoided the lawyer’s searching glance, shrugged his shoulders and smiled coldly.

“I am not engaged to her,” he said, doggedly; “as far as I know she is free to—­to choose for herself.”

“Ah!” Bates slowly released his chin and caught his breath.

Westerfelt could have struck out the light that sprang into his eyes.  “I hain’t seen a bit of evidence in that line, I’ll admit,” went on Bates, with a chuckle of relief; “but some of the boys and girls seemed to think that something might have sprung up between you and her while you was laid up at the hotel.  I reckon I was mistaken, but I thought she looked cut up considerable when you didn’t come to dinner with us jest now.  She wasn’t lively like the rest.”

“Pshaw!” said Westerfelt; “you are off the track.”

“Well, no odds.”  Bates began to tug at his glove again.  “I’ve come to you like a man an’ made an open breast of it, as the feller said.  I intend to ask her point-blank the very first time I get her alone again.  The girl hain’t give me the least bit of hope, but her mother has—­a little.  I reckon a feller might take it that way.”

“What did Mrs. Floyd say?” Westerfelt started, and looked Bates straight in the eyes.

“Oh, nothing much; I may be a fool to think it meant anything, but this morning when I called for Miss Harriet the old lady came in and acted mighty friendly.  She asked me to come to dinner with ’em next Sunday, and said Harriet always was backward about showing a preference for the young man she really liked, an’ said she was shore I didn’t care much for her or I’d come oftener.”