“Marry her, then,” retorted his mother—­“marry her with all her poverty, but for heaven’s sake, don’t give so much encouragement to a poor defenseless girl.”

Wishing Mabel in Guinea, and declaring he’d neither speak to nor look at her again, if common civilities were construed into encouragement, John Jr. strode out of the room, determining, as the surest method of ending the trouble, to go forthwith to Nellie, and in a plain, straight-forward way make her an offer of himself.  With him, to will was to do, and in about an hour he was descending the long hill which leads into Frankfort.  Unfortunately, Nellie had gone for a few weeks to Madison, and again mounting Firelock, the young man galloped back, reaching home just as the family were sitting down to supper.  Not feeling hungry, and wishing to avoid, as long as possible, the sight of his mother and Mabel, whom he believed were leagued against him, he repaired to the parlor, whistling loudly, and making much more noise than was at all necessary.

“If you please, Mr. Livingstone, won’t you be a little more quiet, for my head aches so hard to-night,” said a languid voice, from the depths of the huge easy-chair which stood before the glowing grate.

Glancing toward what he had at first supposed to be a bundle of shawls, John Jr. saw Mabel Ross, her forehead bandaged up and her lips white as ashes, while the purple rings about her heavy eyes, told of the pain she was enduring.

“Thunder!” was John’s exclamation, as he strode from the room, slamming together the door with unusual force.

When Mrs. Livingstone came in from supper, with a cup of hot tea and a slice of toast for Mabel, she was surprised to find her sobbing like a child.  It did not take long for her to learn the cause, and then, as well as she could, she soothed her, telling her not to mind John’s freaks—­it was his way, and he always had a particular aversion to sick people, never liking to hear them talk of their ailments.  This hint was sufficient for Mabel, who ever after strove hard to appear well and cheerful in his presence.  But in no way, if he could help it, would he notice her.

Next to Mrs. Livingstone, ’Lena was Mabel’s best friend, and when she saw how much her cousin’s rudeness and indifference pained her, she determined to talk with him about it, So the first time they were alone, she broached the subject, speaking very kindly of Mabel, and asking if he had any well-grounded reason for his uncivil treatment of her.  There was no person in the world who possessed so much influence over John Jr. as did ’Lena, and now, hearing her patiently through, he replied, “I know I’m impolite to Mabel, but hang me if I can help it.  She is so flat and silly, and takes every little attention from me as a declaration of love.  Still, I don’t blame her as much as I do mother, who is putting her up to it, and if she’d only go home and mind her own business, I should like her well enough.”