his wife and two grown
children, lived up the Boulevard, some distance from the Kemps. Mrs.
Snowden was a rather fat lady a few years older than her husband, with a
mid-western nasal voice. Milly thought her "common,"--a word she had
learned from Eleanor Kemp,--and the daughter, who was in one of the
lower classes of the Institute, was like her mother. During the first
months in Chicago the Snowdens were the people Milly saw most of.

Horatio liked to have the Snowdens in for what he called a "quiet rubber
of whist" with a pitcher of cider, a box of cheap cigars, and a plate of
apples on the table. Grandma Ridge sat in the dining-room, reading her
_Christian Vindicator_, while Milly entertained her friends on the steps
or visited at the Kemps. Occasionally she was induced to take a hand in
the game. She liked Mr. Snowden. He was more the gentleman than most of
her father's business friends. With his trim, grizzled mustache and his
eye-glass he looked almost professional, she thought. He treated Milly
gallantly, brought her flowers occasionally, and took her with his
daughter to the theatre. He seemed much younger than his wife, and Milly
rather pitied him for being married to her. She felt that it must have
been a mistake of his youth. Her father was proud of the friendship and
would repeat often,--"Snow's a smart man, I can tell you. There's a
great future for Snow at Hoppers'."

The Snowdens had an old-fashioned house with a stable, and kept a horse.
Mr. Snowden was fond of driving, and had always a fast horse. He would
come on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday and take Ridge for a drive. One
Saturday afternoon he drove up to the house, and seeing Milly in the
front window--it was a warm April day of their second year--motioned her
to come outside.

"Papa is not home yet," she said, patting the horse.

"I know he isn't," Snowden remarked jerkily. "Didn't come for him--came
for _you_--jump in!"

Milly looked at him joyously with her glowing, child's eyes.

"Really? You want me! But I'm not dressed."

"You're all right--jump in--it's warm enough." And Milly without further
urging got into the buggy.

They went out through the boulevard to the new parkway, and when they
reached the broad open road in the park, Snowden let his horse out, and
they spun for a mile or more breathlessly. Milly's cheeks glowed, and
her eyes danced. She was afraid that he might turn back at the end of
the drive. But he kept on into a reg