Miss Mayfield betrayed little concern at this possible extreme measure with a dangerous neighbor. “He cut your head, Jeff,” she said, passing her little hand through his curls.
“No,” said Jeff hastily, “that must have been done BEFORE.”
“Well,” said Miss Mayfield conclusively, “he would if he'd dared. And you brought off that wretched money in spite of him. Poor dear Jeff.”
“Yes,” said Jeff, kissing her.
“Where is it?” asked Jessie, looking round the room.
“Oh, just out there!”
“Out where?”
“On my horse, you know, outside the door,” continued Jeff, a little uneasily, as he rose. “I'll go and—”
“You careless boy,” said Miss Mayfield, jumping up, “I'll go with you.”
They passed out on the porch together, holding each other's hands, like children. The forgotten Rabbit was not there. Miss Mayfield called a vaquero.