t account of all she did and said.
Only twice since the first of June did Miss Herron fail in her promise
to Lucy's father and to herself. And these occasions had been within
the last ten days, when her old neuralgia had laid her low. What her
charge was up to at those times, Miss Herron did not care to inquire.
It was ordered that not even Lucy should come near when cousin Agatha
was in pain, and therefore uncertain in temper as well as a bit
careless as to costume.

"Tell me," the old lady asked, after they had driven some distance
along the shady road, "are you really enjoying your stay here?"

"Yes, indeed. I think Barham's just lovely."

"And what's most lovable in it?"

Lucy stole a look from under her broad hat brim, then retreated. "I
don't believe I know," she said, simply. "It's all----"

"Charming. Of course. I'm glad you think so. We could dispense with
the strangers, however. They don't belong here. They are vulgarly rich
and _parvenu_."

"Some of them are nice, Cousin Agatha," the child protested,
deferentially.

"Who, for instance?"

"All those who come to the house."

"A pack of rascals!" the old lady replied, crisply. "Laughing
like--hyenas, if that's the animal. It's a mercy that the boys and
girls are sent to good schools. They learn some decent behavior,
though of course they haven't had your advantages, my dear. But I
dislike their mothers. They are rich, but they have no poise. Poise,
my dear, and the marks of long descent. But the children may develop.
All but one of them."

Lucy's face grew gently mutinous. "Which is that, cousin?"

"That yellow-haired boy of----" She checked her reply abruptly to
listen. The horses were reined in. "My dear," she asked, resignedly,
"what was that noise I heard?"

There was no mistaking that honk of the goose many times strengthened,
and, following this, the low, steady sputter of a gasoline engine. The
nigh horse's ears pricked up, then were laid back; his honest mate
stopped short to await developments.

"I'm afraid," ventured Lucy, "that it's an automobile."

"The wretches, to choose this road! Are they coming? Go along, there!"
cried Miss Herron to the horses, who sprang forward as she laid the
whip on their fat flanks. "If we can get just beyond the woods I can
turn out for it. But--oh, the _wretches_!"

"Honk-honk!" close behind now.

"Oh!" cried Lucy. She knelt up in the carriage seat, looking back
along the road.

"Wave to him, my c