ied in the breeze that fanned his hot
cheeks. Away and away he raced until he reached the crossroads, miles
away, and down this he turned and galloped as recklessly as before.
The sun was hot, today, and the sorrel's flanks begun to steam and
show flecks of white upon their glossy surface. He turned again to the
left, entering upon a broad highway that would lead him straight home
at last; but he had almost reached the little village of Elmwood,
which was the railway station, before he realized his cruelty to the
splendid mare he bestrode. Then indeed, he fell to a walk, patting
Nora's neck affectionately and begging her to forgive him for his
thoughtlessness. The mare tossed her head in derision. However she
might sweat and pant, she liked the glorious pace even better than her
rider.

Through the village he paced moodily, the bridle dangling loosely on
the mare's neck. The people paused to look at him curiously, but he
had neither word nor look for any.

He did not know one of them by name, and cared little how much they
might speculate upon his peculiar position at "the big house."

Then, riding slowly up the hedge bordered road, his troubles once more
assailed him, and he wondered if there was not some spot upon the
broad earth to which he could fly for retirement until the girls had
left Elmhurst for good.

Nora shied, and he looked up to discover that he had nearly run down a
pedestrian--a stout little man with a bundle under his arm, who held
up one hand as if to arrest him.

Involuntarily he drew rein, and stopped beside the traveler with a
look of inquiry.

"Sorry to trouble you, sir," remarked the little man, in a cheery
voice, "but I ain't just certain about my way."

"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy.

"To Jane Merrick's place. They call it Elmhurst, I guess."

"It's straight ahead," said Kenneth, as the mare walked on. His
questioner also started and paced beside him.

"Far from here?"

"A mile, perhaps."

"They said it was three from the village, but I guess I've come a
dozen a'ready."

The boy did not reply to this. There was nothing offensive in the
man's manner. He spoke with an easy familiarity that made it difficult
not to respond with equal frank cordiality, and there was a shrewd
expression upon his wrinkled, smooth-shaven face that stamped him a
man who had seen life in many of its phases.

Kenneth, who resented the companionship of most people, seemed
attracted by the ma