fellow wouldn't sell. But this
time it's important and I must go. Bones," and he lifted his finger to
the boy, "tell John I want the light wagon. I'll take the 11.12 to
Philadelphia."

The tiger advanced ten steps and stood at attention, his finger at his
eyebrow. Lucy turned her face toward the boy. "No, Bones, you'll do
nothing of the kind. You tell John to harness the grays to the drag.
I'll go to the station with Mr. Feilding."

Max shrugged his shoulders. He liked Lucy for a good many things--one
was her independence, another was her determination to have her own
way. Then, again, she was never so pretty as when she was a trifle
angry; her color came and went so deliciously and her eyes snapped so
charmingly. Lucy saw the shrug and caught the satisfied look in his
face. She didn't want to offend him and yet she didn't intend that he
should go without a parting word from her--tender or otherwise, as
circumstances might require. She knew she had not found the button, and
in her doubt determined for the present to abandon the search.

"No, Bones, I've changed my mind," she called to the boy, who was now
half way down the piazza. "I don't think I will go. I'll stop here,
Max, and do just what you want me to do," she added in a softened
voice. "Come along," and she slipped her hand in his and the two walked
toward the door of his apartments.

When the light wagon and satin-skinned sorrel, with John on the seat
and Bones in full view, stopped at the sanded porch, Mrs. Coates and
Lucy formed part of the admiring group gathered about the turn-out. All
of Mr. Feilding's equipages brought a crowd of onlookers, no matter how
often they appeared--he had five with him at Beach Haven, including the
four-in-hand which he seldom used--but the grays and the light wagon,
by common consent, were considered the most "stylish" of them all, not
excepting the drag.

After Max had gathered the reins in his hands, had balanced the whip,
had settled himself comfortably and with a wave of his hand to Lucy had
driven off, Mrs. Coates slipped her arm through my lady's and the two
slowly sauntered to their rooms.

"Charming man, is he not?" Mrs. Coates ventured. "Such a pity he is not
married! You know I often wonder whom such men will marry. Some pretty
school-girl, perhaps, or prim woman of forty."

Lucy laughed.

"No," she answered, "you are wrong. The bread-and-butter miss would
never suit Max, and he's past the eye-glass and sid