es Drane is a
frequent and welcome guest at Oaklands! How can I help being moody and
bitter and harassed? Sometimes I think I have overcome my former
dislike for Drane; for he is, to give him his due, invariably cordial
to me--in fact, he seems to seek and to enjoy my company--but when I
think of him as a favored guest at your father's house while I'm
prohibited from entering its doors, and while you, my betrothed wife,
beg me not to come near the house, is it any wonder I am harassed? He
was at Oaklands again yesterday, was he not?"

"Yes, he was; but that is of no moment," Betty answered frankly. "He is
dad's friend, not mine. I treat him courteously, of course; but that----"

"Your father may consider himself the magnet that draws Drane to
Oaklands," sneered Abner; "but I know better, and so do you, my girl.
The attraction for him is very different. The fellow's in love with
you. That's plain. 'He who runs may read.'"

"And he who reads had better run!" retorted Betsy, now thoroughly
nettled, "if this reading construes anything I do or say into
encouragement of this lawyer." And her eyes snapped wickedly, she drew
herself up haughtily, and her face grew pale and set.

"No, dear," Abner replied, undaunted by her anger. "I do not mean that.
You must not catch up my words in that way. I know the truth and
steadfastness of your nature too well to believe that you encourage or
coquette with Drane or any other man. My meaning is this: your father
likes Drane and thinks so highly of his brilliant prospects that the
mere fact that he is a possible suitor for your hand will dispose your
father to think with the less favor of my pretensions. And indeed,
Betty dear, though I do not for a moment think you encourage the
fellow, still what I have said of the situation is true in regard to
his feelings and intentions; he wears his heart upon his sleeve."

"That he does not!" returned Betty with spirit; "not all of his heart,
at any rate; only such portions as are fit for public perusal. There's
much in his heart that would, I'm convinced, make queer reading, if one
could see into the depths of that well-controlled organ of his. You
see, I haven't got over my original instinct of distrust of James
Drane, if you have. Let him make love to me! Bah! I'd sooner listen to
the uncouth love phrases of the veriest clodhopper in Bourbon County
than to his honeyed, courtly utterances. Oh, there comes father!" she
broke off abruptly, look