She stroked Pepper’s nose while Austen undid the hitch-rope from around his neck.

“You and I are getting to be friends, aren’t we, Pepper?” she asked, as the horse, with quivering nostrils, thrust his head into her hand.  Then she sprang lightly into the buggy by Austen’s side.  The manner of these acts and the generous courage with which she defied opinion appealed to him so strongly that his heart was beating faster than Pepper’s hoof-beats on the turf of the pasture.

“You are very good to come with me,” he said gravely, when they had reached the road; “perhaps I ought not to have asked you.”

“Why?” she asked, with one of her direct looks.

“It was undoubtedly selfish,” he said, and added, more lightly, “I don’t wish to put you into Mrs. Pomfret’s bad graces.”

Victoria laughed.

“She thought it her duty to tell father the time you drove me to the Hammonds’.  She said I asked you to do it.”

“What did he say?” Austen inquired, looking straight ahead of him.

“He didn’t say much,” she answered.  “Father never does.  I think he knows that I am to be trusted.”

“Even with me?” he asked quizzically, but with a deeper significance.

“I don’t think he realizes how dangerous you are,” she replied, avoiding the issue.  “The last time I saw you, you were actually trying to throw a fat man out of your window.  What a violent life you lead, Mr. Vane.  I hope you haven’t shot any more people—­”

“I saw you,” he said.

“Is that the way you spend your time in office hours,—­throwing people out of the windows?”

“It was only Tom Gaylord.”

“He’s the man Mr. Jenney said wanted you to be a senator, isn’t he?” she asked.

“You have a good memory,” he answered her.  “Yes.  That’s the reason I tried to throw him out of the window.”

“Why didn’t you be a senator?” she asked abruptly.  “I always think of you in public life.  Why waste your opportunities?”

“I’m not at all sure that was an opportunity.  It was only some of Tom’s nonsense.  I should have had all the politicians in the district against me.”

“But you aren’t the kind of man who would care about the politicians, surely.  If Humphrey Crewe can get elected by the people, I should think you might.”

“I can’t afford to give garden-parties and buy lemonade,” said Austen, and they both laughed.  He did not think it worth while mentioning Mr. Braden.

“Sometimes I think you haven’t a particle of ambition,” she said.  “I like men with ambition.”

“I shall try to cultivate it,” said Austen.

“You seem to be popular enough.”

“Most worthless people are popular, because they don’t tread on anybody’s toes.”

“Worthless people don’t take up poor people’s suits, and win them,” she said.  “I saw Zeb Meader the other day, and he said you could be President of the United States.”