Dick tried hard to find words in which to thank Mr. Pollock for the generous offer.

First of all, Prescott took Holmes out driving, one forenoon, to “try out” the mare.  The little animal proved speedy but tractable—–­a wholly safe driving horse.

“I’m not a betting man,” quoth Greg, “but I’ll lay a wager that I can guess who gets the next drive behind this horse.

“Post your wager,” laughed Dick gayly.

“Lau-----”

“Wrong!  My mother gets the next drive.”

And so she did, that same afternoon.  But the following afternoon Prescott, after a good deal of attention to his personal appearance, walked to Getchel’s and drove away from there behind the mare.  The next stop was at the house of Dr. Bentley.

Yet, when Cadet Prescott caught his first glimpse of the broad, cool veranda of the doctor’s house, the young man felt a sudden throb of the heart.

Another young man—–­he looked to be somewhat under thirty—–­was seated in a big rocker, close to Laura.  Both young people were laughing gayly before Miss Bentley caught sight of Dick.

“You’re occupied, I see,” called Prescott lightly, though the tone cost him an effort.

“Come right up, Dick,” called Laura, so the cadet leaped from the buggy, hitching the horse.  The he turned into the broad walk and gained the veranda, where he was presented to Mr. Cameron.

Mr. Cameron greeted the cadet pleasantly, yet didn’t seem overjoyed at his presence.  Nor did Mr. Cameron seem in the least inclined to take himself away.

Usually most self-possessed, Dick Prescott fidgeted a trifle, and felt uncomfortable now.  He wondered if good taste did not call for him to take himself away after a brief conversation.  It was Laura who finally came to the rescue.

“Dick,” she laughed, “there’s something on your mind.  I’m afraid I shall have to help you out.  Did you come to ask me to go driving?”

“Yes,” Dick nodded.  “But of course I realize that some other time will be better.”

“Oh, don’t let me spoil fun,” begged Mr. Cameron, half rising, as though hoping to be asked to seat himself again.

“Mr. Cameron,” Miss Bentley replied sweetly, rising also as her caller completed the act of getting upon his feet, “I know you will excuse me now, rude as it seems in me to ask it.  But Mr. Prescott’s time in Gridley is very limited, and we are all anxious to see as much of him as possible.”

“Say no more, Miss Bentley,” begged Mr. Cameron, forcing a genial smile.  “Mr. Prescott, I congratulate you on having such a good champion.  Good afternoon, Laura.  Good afternoon, Mr. Prescott; I am very glad indeed to have had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“I am most happy to have met you, sir; if it were not for my own great good fortune, and my natural selfishness, I would feel most regretful over being the means of distracting Miss Bentley’s attention.”