But, like many other young men, he could talk quite eloquently with his eyes, and as the language of the eyes is always direct, and purely grammatical, Miss Brown understood everything they said, and, to her great horror, once or twice barely escaped talking back.

The poor little teacher was about to make the whole matter a subject of special prayer, when a knock at the door startled her.

She answered it, and beheld the homely features of the judge.

“I just come in to talk a little matter that’s been botherin’ me some time.  Ye’ll pardon me ef I talk a little plain?” said he.

“Certainly,” replied the teacher, wondering if he, too, had joined her persecutors.

“Thank ye,” said the judge, looking relieved.  “It’s all right.  I’ve got darters to hum ez big ez you be, an’ I want to talk to yer ez ef yer was one uv ’em.”

The judge looked uncertain for a moment, and then proceeded: 

“That feller Toledo’s dead in love with yer—­uv course you know it, though ‘tain’t likely he’s told yer.’  All I want to say ’bout him is, drop him kindly.  He’s been took so bad sence you come, that he’s stopped drinkin’ an’ chewin’ an’ smokin’ an’ cussin’, an’ he hasn’t played a game at The Nugget sence the first singin’-school night.  Mebbe this all ain’t much to you, but you’ve read ’bout that woman that was spoke well uv fur doin’ what she could.  He’s the fust feller I’ve ever seen in the diggin’s that went back on all the comforts uv life, an’—­an’ I’ve been a young man myself, an’ know how big a claim it’s been fur him to work.  I ain’t got the heart to see him spiled now; but he will be ef, when yer hev to drop him, yer don’t do it kindly.  An’—­just one thing more—­the quicker he’s out of his misery the better.”

The old jail-bird screwed a tear out of his eye with a dirty knuckle, and departed abruptly, leaving the little teacher just about ready to cry herself.

But before she was quite ready, another knock startled her.

She opened the door, and let in Toledo himself.

“Good-evin’, marm,” said he, gravely.  “I just come in to make my last ‘fficial call, seein’ I’m goin’ away to-morrer.  Ez there anything the schoolhouse wants I ken git an’ send from ’Frisco?”

“Going away!” ejaculated the teacher, heedless of the remainder of Toledo’s sentence.

“Yes, marm; goin’ away fur good.  Fact is, I’ve been tryin’ to behave myself lately, an’ I find I need more company at it than I git about the diggin’s.  I’m goin’ some place whar I ken learn to be the gentleman I feel like bein’—­to be decent an’ honest, an’ useful, an’ there ain’t anybody here that keers to help a feller that way—­nobody.”

The ancestor of the Browns of Middle Bethany was at Lexington on that memorable morning in ’75, and all of his promptness and his courage, ten times multiplied, swelled the heart of his trembling little descendant, as she faltered out: