d we ought to reach home,
which is just about there, in an hour."

"I see," said Schwab. But all he saw was a finger in a white glove,
and long eyelashes tangled in a gray veil.

For many minutes, or for all Schwab knew, for many miles, the young
lady pointed out to him the places along the Hudson, of which he had
read in the public school history, and quaint old manor houses set in
glorious lawns; and told him who lived in them. Schwab knew the names
as belonging to down-town streets, and up-town clubs. He became
nervously humble, intensely polite, he felt he was being carried as an
honored guest into the very heart of the Four Hundred, and when the car
jogged slowly down the main street of Yonkers, although a policeman
stood idly within a yard of him, instead of shrieking to him for help,
"Izzy" Schwab looked at him scornfully across the social gulf that
separated them, with all the intolerance he believed becoming in the
upper classes.

"Those bicycle cops," he said confidentially to Miss Forbes, "are too
chesty."

The car turned in between stone pillars, and under an arch of red and
golden leaves, and swept up a long avenue to a house of innumerable
roofs. It was the grandest house Mr. Schwab had ever entered, and when
two young men in striped waistcoats and many brass buttons ran down the
stone steps and threw open the door of the car, his heart fluttered
between fear and pleasure.

Lounging before an open fire in the hall were a number of young men,
who welcomed Winthrop delightedly and, to all of whom Mr. Schwab was
formally presented. As he was introduced he held each by the hand and
elbow and said impressively, and much to the other's embarrassment,
"WHAT name, please?"

Then one of the servants conducted him to a room opening on the hall,
from whence he heard stifled exclamations and laughter, and some one
saying "Hush." But "Izzy" Schwab did not care. The slave in brass
buttons was proffering him ivory-backed hair-brushes, and obsequiously
removing the dust from his coat collar. Mr. Schwab explained to him
that he was not dressed for automobiling, as Mr. Winthrop had invited
him quite informally. The man was most charmingly sympathetic. And
when he returned to the hall every one received him with the most
genial, friendly interest. Would he play golf, or tennis, or pool, or
walk over the farm, or just look on? It seemed the wish of each to be
his escort. Never had he been so popular.

H