Victoria was silent.  And presently they came to a wire fence overgrown with Virginia creeper, which divided the shaded road from a wide lawn.

“Here we are at the Hammonds’, and—­thank you,” she said.

Any reply he might have made was forestalled.  The insistent and intolerant horn of an automobile, followed now by the scream of the gears, broke the stillness of the country-side, and a familiar voice cried out—­“Do you want the whole road?”

Austen turned into the Hammonds’ drive as the bulldog nose of a motor forged ahead, and Mr. Crewe swung in the driver’s seat.

“Hello, Victoria,” he shouted, “you people ought to have ear-trumpets.”

The car swerved, narrowly missed a watering fountain where the word “Peace” was inscribed, and shot down the hill.

“That manner,” said Victoria, as she jumped out of the buggy, “is a valuable political asset.”

“Does he really intend to go into politics?” Austen asked curiously.

“‘Intend’ is a mild word applied to Humphrey,” she answered; “‘determined’ would suit him better.  According to him, there is no game that cannot be won by dynamics.  ‘Get out of the way’ is his motto.  Mrs. Pomfret will tell you how he means to cover the State with good roads next year, and take a house in Washington the year after.”  She held out her hand.  “Good-by,—­and I am ever so much obliged to you for bringing me here.”

He drove away towards Ripton with many things to think about, with a last picture of her in his mind as she paused for an instant in the flickering shadows, stroking Pepper’s forehead.

CHAPTER VII

THE LEOPARD AND HIS SPOTS

It is difficult to overestimate the importance of Mr. Humphrey Crewe, of his value to the town of Leith, and to the State at large, and in these pages only a poor attempt at an appreciation of him may be expected.  Mr. Crewe by no means underestimated this claim upon the community, and he had of late been declaring that he was no summer resident.  Wedderburn was his home, and there he paid his taxes.  Undoubtedly, they were less than city taxes.

Although a young man, Mr. Crewe was in all respects a model citizen, and a person of many activities.  He had built a farmers’ club, to which the farmers, in gross ingratitude, had never gone.  Now it was a summer residence and distinctly rentable.  He had a standing offer to erect a library in the village of Leith provided the town would furnish the ground, the books, and permit the name of Crewe to be carved in stone over the doorway.  The indifference of the town pained him, and he was naturally not a little grieved at the lack of proper feeling of the country people of America towards those who would better their conditions.  He had put a large memorial window in the chapel to his family.