case. Ann and her mother were out of the buggy. Mrs. Bodley was at the horse's head, and Ann stood helplessly doing nothing at all. The young man came alongside. "Anybody hurt?" said he, solicitously. "No, we ain't hurt," replied Mrs. Bodley, sharply, "but we might have been. You hadn't any right to go so fast." "I was running only about eighteen miles an hour," said the young man. His voice was boyish and aggrieved. “I did not know your horse was afraid of cars," he pleaded. "He ain't," said Mrs. Bodley. "He ain't afraid of cars, but he's mortal scared of a car," said Mrs. Bodley. The young man looked bewildered. He glanced at Ann. She was pale and trembling, but she could not avoid smiling slightly. "My mother means that Prince, when there are a number of cars, doesn't shy, because he can't make up his mind which to shy at; but when there is one he does." "Oh!" said the young man. He continued to regard her. "You were frightened?" said he. "Yes, I was." "Ann was always afraid of a horse," said Mrs. Bodley. Her eyes upon the young man were suddenly very sharply speculative. "Ann is delicate," said she, as if she were complimenting Ann. Ann colored. "Nonsense, mother!" said she. "I am not delicate at all, and I realize I am a fool to be afraid of an old horse like Prince." "Some people can't help it," said the young man. He surveyed Ann admiringly. "May I inquire where you were going, madam?" he said to Mrs. Bodley. "To Barr Center, if I can ever get those reins mended," said Mrs. Bodley. Her words were rather aggressive, but her tone was not. The young man hesitated. "Why can't I tie your horse here and take you two ladies to Barr Center in my car?" he propounded, finally. Ann started and flushed. “We have some shopping to do," said she. "That's all right. I have time enough. You can do your shopping while I make my calls. I am Doctor Dickerson's nephew, Frank Dickerson, and I am his assistant, and he sent me to Barr Center to make five calls." Mrs. Bodley looked at him with veiled eagerness, but she spoke hesitatingly. "Well, I don't know," said she. "Oh, mother, it is very kind of Doctor Dickerson, but we had better mend the reins and go on in the buggy," said Ann. "I don't see how the reins can be mended so as to be safe if Prince shies again," said Mrs. Bodley. "I guess we had better give up going to Barr Center." The young man examined the reins and then whistled. "They are in rather bad shape," said he. "I don't quite see, myself, how we can mend them enough to enable you even to drive back to Barr-by-the-Sea. But if you will only accept my invitation and get in my car, we can find something in Barr Center to mend the reins with when we come back." Ann looked distressed. "Mother, you wouldn't leave Prince and the buggy right here by the road, without a house in sight?" said she. "I don't see how anybody can drive Prince off, with the reins broken, any better than we can," said Mrs. Bodley, and Frank Dickerson recognized her as being distinctly on his side. "They could hitch Prince and the buggy on behind another team," said Ann. Frank wondered if she really did not wish to go in his car. "Prince never would go hitched on behind anything," said her mother, grimly. "I remember when Sam Johnson tried it, and Prince kicked in the back of Sam's new carryall." Frank Dickerson, in spite of himself, burst into a peal of laughter. The exploits of the defiant old sidewise-poised horse did seem incredible. Ann laughed, too, after a second. Mrs. Bodley did not laugh. She wished very much, for many reasons, to accept the young man's invitation; besides, she was always serious in her statements. "It is true, even if Prince does look as if he wouldn't," said she. "It is as safe to leave him hitched here as if he were a tiger. You know he always tries to bite strangers, too, Ann. You can't laugh at You can't laugh at that." It ended in Prince being tied fast to a fence post, and Mrs. Bodley and Ann spinning off with young Doctor Dickerson in his shiny car. Frank Dickerson had wanted very much to ask Ann to sit in front beside him, but had not dared. He had, therefore, been surprised and delighted at Mrs. Bodley's suggestion, "You had better sit in front with Doctor Dickerson," as Ann was following her into the tonneau. "Maybe you can get a little idea about driving a car." she added. Ann looked at her mother and gasped. "I have been thinking for quite some time of selling Prince and the buggy and the carryall-Prince is so afraid of an automobile and buying one," declared Mrs. Bodley, coolly. It almost seemed to poor Ann Bodley that her mother must be lying, the whole appeared so preposterous. She had never heard her mother speak of cars with anything but disapproval, and the idea of her, Ann, driving one, was fairly beyond imagination. She rolled a soft brown eye over her shoulder at her mother, who met her gaze defiantly. It actually occurred to Ann that her mother might be losing her wits. It was simply monstrous, the mere thought of herself, little Ann Bodley, driving an automobile. Ann realized that this ought not to be so. She felt herself quite evidently anachronistic. She lived in an era of automobile-driving girls, of golf and tennis girls, but unaccountably she had failed to make her title clear in her own age and generation. She was, nevertheless, rather keen-witted. She really sensed, as probably her mother did not, the reason for the older woman's ceaseless driving of her before her almost juggernaut wheels of ambition. Poor Mrs. Bodley felt instinctively that her daughter was not keeping the pace of her day; she was mortified, and hence the tireless spur of the maternal will. Mrs. Bodley had advanced ideas. Her other daughters had married, as she considered, not to their great advantage. She wished her darling Ann to dance through life in a strictly modern fashion. The idea of her marrying a commonplace man had secretly antagonized her. Still, if there were nothing else it was out of the question that her Ann should live the life of a spinster, with limited means, in her own home. "I doubt if your daughter would like driving a car," said Doctor Dickerson. Ann regarded him gratefully. Her mother did not hear the remark. “Driving a car is quite a strain on the nerves, said Doctor Dickerson. Ann colored a little. "I have always been ashamed that I could not do things as well as other women," said she"that is, the things all the women did not do years ago, and do now." Doctor Dickerson laughed again. “I don't even know your name," said he, changing the subject abruptly. Ann started. "I am Ann Bodley," said she, "and my mother was driving when the horse shied. I forgot. I beg your pardon." "Oh, that's all right! I simply thought I ought to have some name in mind when I thought of you.” Ann started again. She had never had anything like that said to her, at least not in that tone. She looked away at the sere fields past which they were flying. Her heart was beating fast. "Must be a pretty country in the summer," said Doctor Dickerson. "Very pretty," whispered Ann. "It is pretty now, for that matter." The young man eyed a field, and wondered if the girl saw that it was pink and gold and mauve. "Really the colors are prettier than in midsummer," said she, unexpectedly, and he beamed. "You are right there," he agreed. Soon they were approaching Barr Center. Mrs. Bodley leaned forward. "It is wonderful how fast you get to places," said she. She was clutching her wayward bonnet fast; her gray hair stood out in stiff locks before the rush of the wind, but she looked positively gay. "Then you find you like the car?" said Dickerson. "I'd be a fool if I didn't," said Mrs. Bodley. the young man, and forthwith proceeded to explain carefully to Ann how to shut off the power. "That is really the most important thing for you to know," said he. Before they reached Barr Center, Ann had tremulously moved the emergency brake and been inwardly thankful that there was no explosion. Dickerson left the two women in the principal shop in Barr Center, and Mrs. Bodley astounded her already astounded daughter by purchasing table linen in considerable quantity. She also bought other things which Ann did not consider were needed. She wondered at the purchase of nainsook, lace, and embroidery. "Why, mother," she ventured, when the saleswoman's back was turned, “we have so much underwear already." "I want a half dozen extra of everything," said Mrs. Bodley. Ann looked at her mother, and her eyes were almost wild. It occurred to her that Mrs. Bodley might be going to marry again. Ann was frightened. She said no more about the purchases, but she wondered painfully when Mrs. Bodley bought some delicate blue material "Most people feel that way after they and told the saleswoman she wished to have taken the plunge." "I, for one, don't mind the plunge after that old horse," said Mrs. Bodley. Ann cast an apprehensive glance at her. Was it possible that she would really try to have her drive a car? Dickerson relieved her inexpressibly. "If you do get a car I advise you to drive it," he shouted back at Mrs. Bodley. "Some women are born drivers, and you look to me like one. Your daughter might drive all right, but she is not one to take to machinery like you." Mrs. Bodley nodded. "You are right about that," said she. "My daughter can't even manage the sewing-machine, but I should like to have her learn a little if I do buy a car. Suppose I were to have a fit, or anything.' "Oh, mother!" gasped Ann. "You are very wise," shouted back use it for a negligée. The thought of her mother in a wedding negligée of that infantile blue was almost too much for the girl. She felt hysterical. Ann was thankful when the shopping was over and the parcels were carried out to Doctor Dickerson's car. She obeyed meekly her mother's command to occupy the seat beside the young man. "You get right in there, Ann, and learn how to work that thing when I have a fit,” said Mrs. Bodley, with grim humor. Mrs. Bodley felt very grand, having her parcels deposited in the car, and sitting there in state. That very night young Dr. Frank Dickerson, telling his uncle about the very pretty girl and her very amusing mother, whom he had rescued from an untoward combination with a buggy and a scared, sidewise, ancient horse with bad habits of kicking and biting in spite of age, was informed of the news which Maria had divulged after hearing it from Carry Munn. Old Doctor Dickerson looked shrewdly at his nephew. "Mustn't poach on another man's preserves," said he. The young man was talking so fast that he paid no heed. "It was all true, too," said he. "That old beast tried to take a nip at me when we got back to the place where he was hitched and I made an effort to re-establish the original traveling cortège. I had to get in my car and drive off, and leave the old lady to unhitch her remarkable steed. The girl was afraid of him. She looked up at me and I declare I hated to leave her. She is one of the gone-out-of-date young women who rather appeal to me." "No use, Frank; she has appealed to another man before you," said the old doctor. This time the nephew heard. He stared with a shamed, taken-aback expression at his uncle. "You mean- -?" "You drove them over to Barr Center on a shopping expedition for the young woman's trousseau. She is going to marry a widower with one child, who is staying with her prospective ma now.' "How do you know?" "Surer information than telephone, mail, or cable. Servants. You don't mean to say you are so anacreontic as to fall in love at sight?" Frank Dickerson colored absurdly. "What do you take me for?" he demanded. "Of course she is a pretty girl, and one somehow that makes you realize you are a man, and that is subtle flattery in these days. That girl could no more drive a car, and I know she never rode a bicycle; and she is charmingly afraid of a horse, and makes a fellow feel like a knight of old. But in love? Good Lord! She seemed just a variety which pleases because it is out of date. Hope she's got a good man. A widower with one child. How old?" is. I suppose he is somebody she met while she was away. I never heard of anybody here paying her the slightest attention. Guess the young men here like the prevailing mode in girls. I have noticed her. She is a nice little thing, and one of the sort who used to surprise me by being a darned sight smarter than they looked, in an emergency." "That is just the way I feel about a girl of that type." The result of that conversation was that young Doctor Dickerson did not call on Ann Bodley, although he had been cordially invited to do so by her mother. For several evenings Ann herself changed her gown for a blue one which was becoming, and took extra pains with her hair. Then she would have stopped, but her mother drove her on, and she continued with the docility which she had in all little things. She was not quite so docile in the large affairs of life, and her mother realized that, and endeavored very cleverly to present them as small ones. "You are foolish not to wear that pretty blue dress while it is in style,” she said, and the girl continued to array herself in it. Had she once suspectedbut she did not. She sewed obediently on the linen and cambric, too. She was rather fond of sewing-setting nice little stitches seemed to her like a sort of lady rhythm of life—but not one would she have set had she known. As it was, she finally became rather melancholy about the delicate work. She could not help associating it with the lot of other girls, a lot which she was confident would never be for her. However, the baby was a great resource. She could not be entirely unhappy with the baby. She thought sometimes of the young man who had driven her and her mother over to Barr Center. She saw him every Sunday in church, and he always bowed politely. She was not foolish about him. There was in Ann Bodley a firm groundwork of common sense, but she realized, when she thought of him, a sense of "Only a baby. I don't know who he something slipping away which might, if it remained, count. When he did not call, she made the best of it. Then he came. She was all alone that evening. Her mother had gone to prayer meeting, and Ann, who had a slight cold, had remained at home. She wore the blue dress, and sat sewing, after she had put the baby to bed, before the fire when the bell rang. Carry Munn had also gone to church, so Ann went to the door. She started a little when she saw Frank Dickerson. "Oh, good evening!" she said, still believed she was to be married soon noarsely. to another man, but he resented it. "You have a cold. Go right away from the door," ordered young Dicker son. Ann fluttered before him like a blue flower, and the two sat down before the hearth fire. Dickerson looked at her smilingly. "Not much of a cold, eh?" he asked. Ann shook her head. "Nothing at all," she said, quite clearly. "I am better than I was yesterday, but mother thought it rather damp for me to go out VOL. CXLIV.-No. 859.-13 After they had talked a little while he glanced at the pile of dainty white stuff in a work basket, and the resentment grew. Frank Dickerson knew that this delicate, reverting-to-type girl could not possibly be going to marry a man who was worthy of her. He knew men. He felt that he wanted to shake Ann by her blue shoulders and tell her brutally that she was a little fool to marry the fellow, whoever he was. After a while, Ann, by sheer force of |