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She fell silent also. "You are not eating anything," said Jeff. She started at his voice and looked up. "No, I'm not hungry," she said. "I shall eat all the more presently when we get out into the open." He said no more, but finished his own breakfast with businesslike promptitude. "Mrs. Grimshaw will take you upstairs," he said then, and went to the door to call her. "Where will you be?"
One o' them kind o' fellows ez could sling poetry and French and Latin to her one of HER kind but ye ain't! No, sir!" Unwise William of Yuba! In any other breast but Jeff's that random shot would have awakened the irregular auxiliary of love jealousy! But Jeff, being at once proud and humble, had neither vanity nor conceit, without which jealousy is impossible.
Doris's grey eyes gleamed. "No, Jeff!" she repeated, more calmly, and with the words she slipped Hugh's envelope into the bosom of her dress. "I can't give you my letters to answer indeed." Jeff withdrew his hand, and began to eat his breakfast in utter silence. Doris played with hers until the silence became intolerable, and then, very suddenly and very winningly, she leaned towards him.
Blake was tired and Shirley, now quite irritated at what she considered Jefferson's unaccountable unsociability, declined somewhat abruptly. But she could never remain angry long, and when they said good-night she whispered demurely: "Are you cross with me, Jeff?" He turned his head away and she saw that his face was singularly drawn and grave. "Cross no. Good-night.
She ran up to the colonel, and pulled him away from Jeff. It seemed as if she were about to make him dance, too. "Don't bother him, Farvie," said she. "He's out of prison! he's out of prison!" She had said it, the cruel word, and Jeff knew she could not possibly have ventured it if she did not see in him something fortunate and free. "Jeff!" said the colonel.
"I's got something yo' can't have!" he cried. "An' yo' all can't catch me, an' git it; dat's whut yo' can't!" Away he sped, and he was such a good runner that the other boys could not come up to him. Around the corner of one street, down another and up a third ran Jeff, and then he darted down the stairs into what was almost a cellar, though it was called a basement.
Look to me like dyestuffs. Let's get nearer," he urged, "up there by the fall." We scrambled along the steep banks and got close to the pool that foamed and boiled beneath the falling water. Here we searched the border and found traces of color beyond dispute. More Jeff suddenly held up an unlooked-for trophy. It was only a rag, a long, raveled fragment of cloth.
Stammering out an incoherent apology, addressed vaguely to the occupants of the room, but looking toward the languid goddess on the sofa, Jeff seized the bear-skin and backed out the door. Then he flew to his room with it, and then returned to the bar-room; but the impatient William of Yuba had characteristically helped himself and gone off to the stable.
Soon afterwards Gideon Tuttle, who had been scouting near the house, came in, stating that he had seen no light to the southward which would indicate the camp-fires of an enemy, and that, according to his belief, none was likely to appear. In this Uncle Jeff was inclined to agree with him.
She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her self possession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered for a moment and then replied: "You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you guess?" He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made no resistance. Her delicate, slender hand lay passively in his big brown one and met his grasp frankly, cordially.
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