perhaps, how much longer their millions would
keep them alive. Sometimes their young heirs were with them, patient and
placid. Others were pitifully alone. Several men were on horseback,
riding in the agonized fashion of the day. There were carriages full of
girls with complexions of ivory and claret, air of ineffable daintiness.
Now and then a victoria would roll by in which women lolled, heavily
veiled with crape. Webb wondered if they really could sorrow like common
folks. Mingling with the superb turnouts were barouches unmistakably
hired, occupied by people dressed with a certain cheap smartness. Here
and there a girl, probably of the people, cantered half defiantly down
the line, a sailor-hat on her head, her jacket open over a shirt and
"four-in-hand." Once a yoke of oxen, driven by a bareheaded maid,
straggled into the throng.

The avenue before the hotel became deserted once more. The upper end was
blocked with carriages, all apparently bent in the same direction.
Andrew ran down the steps, half inclined to follow, half fearing they
would never return. A number of open hacks stood before the hotel. A
driver immediately approached Andrew.

"Like a drive, sir?"

"Yes," said Webb. "Go where the others are going."

"Certainly, sir. And, if you be a stranger, I can tell you most of the
names."

Andrew could have tipped him on the spot. He should be able to identify
those people at last! He felt that he had advanced another step!

"We'll drive slow and meet them on their return," said the driver. He
indicated with a gesture of contempt a passing carriage.

"You see them, sir? They be people that comes to the hotels and goes
away and talks about spending the summer in Newport. But any one could
tell that they're just hotel people, and that the hack is hired. They
don't deceive nobody here."

The words gave Andrew a hint for which he was thankful. He understood
that he must not stay at the hotel. Where should he go, however? He must
take a "cottage," he supposed.

They rolled down a thick-leaved avenue and out over the stubby
sand-hills by the sea. Here and there a large mansion crowned the
heights, and Andrew was glad to see the traditional cottage in full
relief. He paid it scant attention, however. The procession of carriages
had already turned, and his faithful guide uttered many a name which
sounded like old sweet music in his ears. Some of the younger faces were
unfamiliar; but they, too, bore names t