king her home
in my car."

Miss Morley answered promptly. "You may have the privilege, Doctor
Bayliss," she said. "I accept with pleasure."

Young Bayliss looked pleased, but rather puzzled.

"Thanks, awfully," he said. "But my car holds but two and your uncle--"

"Oh, he has the dogcart. It is quite all right, really. I should love
the motor ride. May I get in?"

He helped her into the car. "Sure you don't mind, Knowles," he asked.
"Sorry there's not more room; but you couldn't leave the horse, though,
could you? Quite comfy, Miss Morley? Then we're off."

The car turned from the curb. I caught Miss Morley's eye for an instant;
there was withering contempt in its look--also triumph.

Left alone, I walked to the trap, gave the horse-holding boy sixpence,
climbed to the seat and took up the reins. "Pet" jogged lazily up the
street. The ride over had been very, very pleasant; the homeward journey
was likely to be anything but that.

To begin with, I was thoroughly dissatisfied with myself. I had bungled
the affair dreadfully. This was not the time for explanations; I should
not have attempted them. It would have been better, much better, to have
accepted the inevitable as gracefully as I could, paid the bills, and
then, after we reached home, have made the situation plain and "have put
my foot down" once and for all. But I had not done that. I had lost my
temper and acted like an eighteen-year-old boy instead of a middle-aged
man.

She did not understand, of course. In her eyes I must have appeared
stingy and mean and--and goodness knows what. The money I had refused to
pay she did consider hers, of course. It was not hers, and some day she
would know that it was not, but the town square at Wrayton was not the
place in which to impart knowledge of that kind.

She was so young, too, and so charming--that is, she could be when she
chose. And she had chosen to be so during our drive together. And I
had enjoyed that drive; I had enjoyed nothing as thoroughly since our
arrival in England. She had enjoyed it, too; she had said so.

Well, there would be no more enjoyment of that kind. This was the end,
of course. And all because I had refused to pay for a tennis racket and
a few other things. They were things she wanted--yes, needed, if she
were to remain at the rectory. And, expecting to remain as she did, it
was but natural that she should wish to play tennis and dress as did
other young players of her sex. Her li