. "I hope we are not
sorry. Bring him to the house after you get through, to-morrow, I guess
we'll be a family party."

The snorting uproar of an arriving racing car crashed across reply.

"Hey, Rosie, did you rope those hams and eggs?" blithely shouted the
masked driver, checking his machine. "If you didn't, I'll hook a wheel
off your cart to-morrow when I pass you. Why haven't you canned your car
yet? Oh, excuse _me_!" perceiving Flavia.

"I roped them, George," assured Corrie. "I'm coming in, now."

Rupert advanced to the front of the Mercury.

"You're giving orders," he signified to his driver. "Do I crank?"

The slight episode was the fitting period to Gerard's argument; he gave
Mr. Rose his fine, cool smile to point it.

* * * * *

Frederick the Great did not go home to the pink villa. Not even Flavia
could win him from the master he had refound. So it happened that when
Gerard went to Corrie, after midnight, he discovered his driver seated
beside an open window in the drab, cheerless hotel bedroom, his arms
folded on the sill and the dog's head resting on his knee.

"Corrie, do you know it is past twelve o'clock?" he exclaimed, purposely
authoritative in spite of his aching pity. "I saw the light over your
door and came in to give you what Rupert describes as a calling down.
How do you expect to be up fresh and fit for a race at dawn? You go to
bed, young man, where I sent you two good hours ago."

"I am going," Corrie replied, without turning. "I'm--all right.
Gerard----"

The pause was so long that Gerard came quietly over and put his hand on
the other's shoulder, waiting.

"Gerard, do you remember what Rupert once said, in the yacht club where
we fed the tramp, about my getting just what I earned and that no luck
would soften my brick walls? And I said I was content because I meant to
earn what I wanted. I didn't know what I was talking about, but he was
right. I'm not complaining, you know; it's fair enough. No, don't answer
yet; that isn't what I meant to say."

The dog moved restlessly and whined, nestling closer to the master he
loved. Corrie dropped a hand to the animal's neck.

"This good old chap and I will go to bed, presently. We've got to win,
to-morrow; it's the last time. Gerard, did you ever read a poem Flavia
and I used to like, I wonder? About a man having the strength of ten,
because his heart was clean? Do you believe it--I mean, that a man can
s