Consequently Jeff saw only a face full of possibilities and probabilities, framed in a small delicate oval, saw a slight woman’s form—more than usually small—and heard a low voice, to him full of gentle pride, passion, pathos, and human weakness, and was helpless.
“I only said ‘Good-morning,’” said Miss Mayfield, with that slight, arch satisfaction in the observation of masculine bashfulness, which the best of her sex cannot forego.
“Thank you, miss; good-morning. I’ve been wanting to say to you that I hope you wasn’t mad, you know,” stammered Jeff, desperately intent upon getting off his apology.
“It is so lovely this morning—such a change!” continued Miss Mayfield.
“Yes, miss! You know I reckoned—at least what your father said, made me kalkilate that you”—
Miss Mayfield, still smiling, knitted her brows and went on: “I slept so well last night,” she said gratefully, “and feel so much better this morning, that I ventured out. I seem to be drinking in health in this clear sunlight.”
“Certainly miss. As I was sayin’, your father says his daughter is in the coach; and Bill says, says he to me, ‘I’ll pack—I’ll carry the old—I’ll bring up Mrs. Mayfield, if you’ll bring up the daughter;’ and when we come to the coach I saw you asleep—like in the corner, and bein’ small, why miss, you know how nat’ral it is, I”—
“Oh, Mr. Jeff! Mr. Briggs!” said Miss Mayfield plaintively, “don’t, please—don’t spoil the best compliment I’ve had in many a year. You thought I was a child, I know, and—well, you find,” she said audaciously, suddenly bringing her black eyes to bear on him like a rifle, “you find—well?”
What Jeff thought was inaudible but not invisible. Miss Mayfield saw enough of it in his eye to protest with a faint color in her cheek. Thus does Nature betray itself to Nature the world over.