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"Then Ned Ferry doesn't drink?"

I looked carefully at my companion and asked him if the Major had said all of that. He had, and Gholson's hide had turned it without taking a scratch. "That's fine!--as to Ferry," I said.

The patient gentleman smiled again as he said, "Oh--Gholson can attend to that."

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

"Easier to get away, you think?" I asked, with a worse frown than ever, as he stepped into the carry-all and took the lines.

"Clifton?"

"No," she laughed, "and if I go back with you to Wiggins--to the little white cottage, you know, opposite the blacksmith's shop,--you'll give me what you've got for me, won't you?" She dropped her head to one side and a mocking-bird chuckle rippled in her throat.

"I'm enjoying one advantage," she replied, "which you do not."

"Yes,"--she put away gaiety--"your orders are plain; and they're as cruel as they are plain!"

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