right, and a couple of hundred yards forked to lead
around both sides of a hill. It was not till the horses approached
this point that their driver opened her lips. She had worn, all the
time that she was quieting her nerves, a look of anxiety into the
midst of which would break every now and then the kindest and briefest
of whimsical smiles.

"Which direction shall we take?"

Lucy started from her reverie. She, too, had said no word. "This is
Steven's Forks, isn't it? Shall we go to the right?"

"Toward home, then?"

"Yes," said Lucy, eagerly, "toward home. To the right, please."

The talk brightened then. And Lucy in particular chattered away at
desperate speed, exclaiming over the rolling landscape, telling her
old hostess how much she had enjoyed Barham.

"That is very pleasant to hear," replied Miss Herron, graciously
enough. "I am only sorry that my indisposition last week prevented
our----"

"Please don't think of it, Cousin Agatha."

"No? My dear, have you ever been visited by neuralgia?"

"I mean," explained the child, eagerly and shyly together, "that it
didn't interfere with my good times at all."

"I understand. Silly girl, why don't they teach you to say things
properly! But I know exactly what you mean."

"Not _really_!" A quick dismay chased away the arch gayety.

"And I'm very glad if you had what you would call a good time."

"Oh, I did! It's all been delightful," Lucy contrived to stammer, and
then fell to scanning the road, which stretched away for a long half
mile ahead of them, white and level.

"A good road for those wretched machines," observed Miss Herron. "I
see one has been along it." And she pointed to the track of broad
tires they were following.

"Wouldn't a farm wagon leave those marks?"

"Possibly, but----" She rose slightly in her seat, and peered ahead.
She laughed aloud as she gathered up her reins and touched the horses
into a brisk trot. "This may be the workings of Providence, my dear."

"Perhaps, Cousin Agatha."

"Is that thing yonder green?"

"There's only one person in it, and--and he's getting out now. It's
stopped."

"Anything more?"

"Oh!" cried Lucy, and now it was hers to stand, "I think----"

"Indeed!" remarked Miss Herron. "I fancied I saw that yellow head of
his."

"The workings of Providence!" Lucy sighed.

"How perfectly absurd! Don't be irreverent, miss."

As they approached the machine, young Fraser was quite invisible; but
when at la