Westerfelt was silent.  He had never suspected Mrs. Floyd of scheming, but now that his suspicions were roused he let them run to the opposite extreme.

Yes, he thought, she was trying to marry her daughter off.  Perhaps because she wanted her to forget Wambush, who was certainly a man no sensible woman would like to have in her family.

Bates’s round red face appeared in a blur before him.  Bates said something, but it sounded far off, and he did not catch its import.  There was a long silence, and then the lawyer spoke again: 

“What do you say?  Why are you so devilish grum?” He took off his hat, and wiped his brow with a red bandanna.  Westerfelt stared into his face.  He was unable to collect his senses.  It was an awful moment for him.  If he intended to marry her, and forget all, he must propose to her at once, or, urged by her mother, she might marry Bates and be lost to him forever.  Bates 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.