Across the distant hedge, from the beautiful grounds of his next-door neighbor, floated sounds of mirth and music.  Gay flags fluttered among the trees.  The Magnelius Grandcourts were evidently preparing for the brilliant charity bazaar to be held there that afternoon and evening.

“To think,” muttered Carr, “that only an hour ago I was agreeably and comfortably prepared to pass the entire afternoon there with my daughters, amid innocent revelry.  And now I’m in flight—­pursued by furies of my own invoking—­threatened with love in its most hideous form—­ matrimony!  Any woman I now look upon may be my intended bride for all I know,” he continued, turning into the semiprivate driveway, bordered heavily by lilacs; “and the curious thing about it is that I really don’t care; in fact, the excitement is mildly pleasing.”

He halted; in the driveway, blocking it, stood a red motor car—­a little runabout affair; and at the steering-wheel sat a woman—­a lady’s maid by her cap and narrow apron, and an exceedingly pretty one, at that.

When she saw Mr. Carr she looked up, showing an edge of white teeth in the most unembarrassed of smiles.  She certainly was an unusually agreeable-looking girl.

“Has something gone wrong with your motor?” inquired Mr. Carr, pleasantly.

“I am afraid so.”  She didn’t say “sir”; probably because she was too pretty to bother about such incidentals.  And she looked at Carr and smiled, as though he were particularly ornamental.

“Let me see,” began Mr. Carr, laying his hand on the steering-wheel; “perhaps I can make it go.”

“It won’t go,” she said, a trifle despondently and shaking her charming head.  “I’ve been here nearly half an hour waiting for it to do something; but it won’t.”

Mr. Carr peered wisely into the acetylenes, looked carefully under the hood, examined the upholstery.  He didn’t know anything about motors.

“I’m afraid,” he said sadly, “that there’s something wrong with the magne-e-to!”

“Do you think it is as bad as that?”

“I fear so,” he said gravely.  “If I were you I’d get out—­and keep well away from that machine.”

“Why?” she asked nervously, stepping to the grass beside him.

“It might blow up.”

They backed away rather hastily, side by side.  After a while they backed farther away, hand in hand.

“I—­I hate to leave it there all alone,” said the maid, when they had backed completely out of sight of the car.  “If there was only some safe place where I could watch and see if it is going to explode.”

They ventured back a little way and peeped at the motor.

“You could take a rowboat and watch it from the water,” said Mr. Carr.

“But I don’t know how to row.”

Mr. Carr looked at her.  Certainly she was the most prepossessing specimen of wholesome, rose-cheeked and ivory-skinned womanhood that he had ever beheld; a trifle nearer thirty-five than twenty-five, he thought, but so sweet and fresh and with such charming eyes and manners.