house. In his hurried, awkward way, he was
attempting to express his gratitude, but he had managed to say the
wrong thing.

"For a boy, indeed," snorted Oliver, as he guided the car into the
door of the garage, and repeated it as he went up the stairs to his
room: "For a boy!"

The big clock in the hall was solemnly striking one.

Oliver was wondering, as he came down to breakfast next morning, what
his cousin would say in explanation of their midnight expedition, but
discovered that Cousin Jasper had adopted the simple expedient of
saying nothing at all. The matter was not even referred to until just
as they were leaving the table, and then only indirectly.

"I should have thought of it before," their host said, "that it might
give you some pleasure to take out the car. Use it every day, if you
wish, and take Jennings or not, just as it suits you. I have real
confidence in your driving, Oliver."

It was surprising how completely matters were put upon another footing
by what he had said. If Cousin Jasper had confidence in him, Oliver
thought, he need no longer feel like a neglected outsider, one who was
of no use or worth in the household.

"Get your hat, Janet," he urged promptly.

He had not an instant's hesitation in deciding where they would go
first.

Just as Cousin Jasper was entering his study he turned back to say:

"Now about your Cousin Eleanor----"

But Oliver either did not or would not hear, as he sped away toward
the garage. Perhaps Cousin Jasper understood the smile that Janet gave
him, for he smiled himself and said no more.

In the very shortest time possible, Oliver and Janet were bowling
along the smooth white road with all the blue and golden sunlight of a
cool June morning about them. Oliver laughed when he thought of his
dusty progress along that way the day before. There was little danger
of his running away now, for the dreaded Cousin Eleanor was quite
forgotten and he was certain that the time would not pass slowly since
he had acquired this splendid new plaything.

He wondered, as the highway spun away beneath the swift wheels, which
of the crossroads that he passed was the one that he had traveled the
evening before, but the night had been so dark and their speed so
great that he was quite unable to decide. It was only after exploring
a good many of Medford Valley's lesser thoroughfares, after awkward
turns in narrow byroads that proved to be mere blind alleys, that they
began