Out of a Labyrinth

by Lawrence L. Lynch

As Brookhouse turned in the saddle to look after the flying phæton, I saw a dark frown cross his face.

But the next instant his brow cleared, and he turned again to bestow on me a look of sharp scrutiny.

Springing from his horse, and throwing the bridle across his arm, he approached the gate.

"Did you hear her?" he exclaimed. "That is what I get for being an amiable fellow. My friend is not amiable to-day."

"Evidently not," I responded, carelessly. "Lovers' quarrels are fierce affairs, but very fleeting."

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I have been so unfortunate as to offend her," he said. "By to-morrow she will have forgotten the circumstances."

"Will she, indeed?" thought I. "We shall see, my friend."

But I made no audible comment, and he dismissed the subject to ask the stereotyped questions, "How was Dr. Bethel? Could he be of any service? How did it happen?"