ner were those of the well-trained servant, and she
looked at her mistress with a gleam of real sympathy in her eyes.

"This is all I want. I'm much obliged," said Sarah Maynor awkwardly.

Nelly withdrew, and Sarah began to eat, more from gratitude to David
than from any sense of hunger. David was so good to her, she must get
used to things for his sake. But the relief of eating without the
espionage of a servant quickened her appetite, and when David rejoined
her, he looked with satisfaction on the empty dishes.

"Don't worry about me, David," said Sarah, with a good attempt at a
careless smile. "I've been actin' like a child, but from now on I'm
goin' to behave myself." David did not answer. He appeared to be in deep
thought about some important matter. He took out a pencil, did some
figuring on the back of an envelope, relapsed again into the thoughtful
mood, and finally went to bed silent and preoccupied.

For the next few weeks, he was away from home the greater part of the
time. Many days he failed to appear at the midday meal, and often it
would be dusk before he came to supper. The vague excuse of "business"
satisfied Sarah, for she had the wifely faith that forbade questioning,
and though David's sympathy helped her to stand the hard conditions of
her daily life, she was still too unhappy to feel any keen curiosity
about her husband's comings and goings. But one day David came home
wearing an expression of such triumphant satisfaction that it could not
be overlooked.

"What's the matter, David?" she asked wistfully. "You look just like you
did the day you got your patent."

David laughed joyously. "I feel just as I did the day I got my patent,
Sarah: I've got a little business to see to after dinner, but about four
o'clock I'll come around with the buggy, and we'll take a long ride.
I've been workin' hard for the last few weeks, and I reckon I'm entitled
to a little holiday."

That horse and phaeton had been the occasion of much comment on the part
of the general public. People often smiled to see the rich inventor and
his wife in their modest turnout, while men of lesser worth whizzed by
in costly machines; only Sarah knew that the shining little phaeton and
the gentle mare were the realization of a childish dream.

"I reckon I ought to have bought a car," said David apologetically, as
he helped Sarah into the phaeton for their first ride together; "but
when I was a little shaver I wanted a pony; every