o him, with a
seat high above the backs of two long-bodied, deep-chested horses, their
heads held with difficulty by a little footman with his arms above him.
At that moment two figures in furs emerged from the house. The young
woman gathered up the reins and leaped lightly to the box, the man
followed; the little groom touched his fur helmet and scrambled aboard
as the horses sprang forward to the music of the softest of bells. The
sleigh swept around the curve, avoided by a clever turn a snow-pile at
the entrance, the young woman raised her eyes from the horses, stared at
Austen, and bowed. As for Austen, he grew warm as he took off his hat,
and he realized that his hand was actually trembling. The sleigh flew on
up the hill, but she turned once more to look behind her, and he still
had his hat in his hand, the snowflakes falling on his bared head. Then
he was aware that James Redbrook was gazing at him curiously.

"That's Flint's daughter, ain't it?" inquired the member from Mercer.
"Didn't callate you'd know her."

Austen flushed. He felt exceedingly foolish, but an answer came to him.

"I met her in the hospital. She used to go there to see Zeb Meader."

"That's so," said Mr. Redbrook; "Zeb told me about it, and she used to
come to Mercer to see him after he got out. She ain't much like the old
man, I callate."

"I don't think she is," said Austen.

"I don't know what she's stayin' with that feller Crewe for," the farmer
remarked; "of all the etarnal darn idiots--why, Brush Bascom and that
Botcher and the rest of 'em are trailin' him along and usin' him for the
best thing that ever came down here. He sets up to be a practical man,
and don't know as much as some of us hayseeds in the back seats. Where
be you goin'?"

"I was going to the Pelican."

"Well, I've got a committee meetin' of Agriculture," said Mr. Redbrook.
"Could you be up here at Mis' Peasley's about eight to-night?"

"Why, yes," Austen replied, "if you want to see me."

"I do want to see you," said Mr. Redbrook, significantly, and waved a
farewell.

Austen took his way slowly across the state-house park, threading among
the groups between the snow-banks towards the wide facade of the Pelican
Hotel. Presently he paused, and then with a sudden determination crossed
the park diagonally into Main Street, walking rapidly southward and
scrutinizing the buildings on either side until at length these began to
grow wide apart, and he spied a floris