“I'm at your service, miss,” said the stranger, considerably affected by the spectacle of this pretty girl, who certainly at that moment, in her bright eyes and slightly pink cheeks, belied the suggestion of ill health.
“Thank you. Dear me!” She was rummaging in a reticule and in her pocket, etc. “Oh, Mr. Jeff!”
“Yes, miss?”
“I'm so frightened!”
“How, miss?”
“I have—yes!—I have left that letter on the stump in the woods, where I was sitting when you came. Would you—”
Jeff darted into the house, seized his hat, and stopped. He was thinking of the stranger.
“Could you be so kind?”
Jeff looked in her agitated face, cast a meaning glance at the stranger, and was off like a shot.
The fire dropped out of Miss Mayfield's eyes and cheeks. She turned toward the stranger.