Usually Arthur’s slightest wish was a law in the household, for that was Frank’s order; but on this occasion Dolly felt herself justified in rebelling.

‘Not have the phaeton!  That’s smart, I must say,’ she exclaimed.  ’Can’t that child walk home, I’d like to know?  Tell Mr. Tracy Maude has had the promise of a drive all day, and I am ready, with my things on.  Ask him to take the Victoria; he never drives.’

All this in substance was repeated to Arthur, who answered, quietly: 

‘Let Mrs. Tracy take the victoria.  I prefer the phaeton myself.’

That settled it, and in few moments Jerry was seated at Arthur’s side, and skimming along through the park, and out upon the highway which skirted the river for miles.

‘This is not going home, and grandma will scold,’ Jerry said.

’Never mind the grandma—­I will make it right with her.  I am going to show you the country,’ Arthur replied, as he chirruped to the fleet pony who seemed to fly along the smooth road.

No one who saw the tall, elegant-looking man, who sat so erect, and handled the reins so skilfully, would ever have suspected him of insanity, and more than one stopped to gaze after him and the little girl whose face, with the golden hair blowing about it, looked out from the white sun bonnet with so joyous an expression.  On the homeward route they met the victoria, with John upon the box, and Mrs. Tracy and Maude inside.

‘There’s Maude!  Hallo, Maude—­see me!  I’m riding!’ Jerry called out, cheerily, while Maude answered back: 

‘Hallo, Jerry!’

But Mrs. Tracy gave no sign of recognition, and only rebuked her daughter for her vulgarity in saying ‘Hallo,’ which was second class and low.

‘Then Nina St. Claire is second class and low, for she says “Hallo,"’ was Maude’s reply, to which her mother had no answer.

Meanwhile the phaeton was going swiftly on toward the cottage, which it reached a few minutes after the furnace whistle blew for six, and Harold, who had been working there, came up the lane.  There were soiled spots on his hands and on his face, and his clothes showed marks of toil, all of which Arthur noted, while he was explaining to Mrs. Crawford that he had taken Jerry for a drive, and kept her beyond the prescribed hour.  Then, turning to Harold, he said: 

‘And so you work in the furnace?’

‘Yes, sir, during vacation, when I can get a job there,’ Harold answered, and Mr. Tracy continued: 

‘How much do you get a day?’

‘Fifty cents in dull times,’ was the reply, and Arthur went on: 

’Fifty cents from seven in the morning to six at night, and board yourself.  A magnificent sum truly.  Pray, how do you manage to spend so much?  You must be getting rich.’

The words were sarcastic, but the tone belied the words, and Harold was about to speak, when his grandmother interrupted him, and said,