by his invitation."

"_His_?"

"Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you
desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me--" He made as if to spring
from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently.

"You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!" she cried; and for some reason this
speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell before
his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly.

"No, no," she faltered. "You must not think it. It isn't--you see, I--
there is nothing!"

"You shall not dull the edge of my hilarity," he answered, "especially
since so much may be forgiven it."

"Why did you leave Mr. Harkless?" she asked, without raising her eyes.

"My dear girl," he replied, "because, for some inexplicable reason, my
lady cousin has not nominated me for Congress, but instead has chosen to
bestow that distinction upon another, and, I may say, an unworthier and
unfitter man than I. And, oddly enough, the non-discriminating multitude
were not cheering for me; the artillery was not in action to celebrate me;
the band was not playing to do me honor; therefore why should I ride in
the midst of a procession that knows me not? Why should I enthrone me in
an open barouche--a little faded and possibly not quite secure as to its
springs, but still a barouche--with four white horses to draw it, and
draped with silken flags, both barouche and steeds? Since these things