automobile.
That's a pity, now. The Old Lady Ericson was in town with her auto.
You might 'a' heard it snortin' anywhere about the post-office er
the butcher-shop."

"Has she a motor?" asked the stranger absently.

"'Deed an' she has! She runs into town every night about this time
for her mail and meat for supper. Some folks say she's afraid her
auto won't get exercise enough, but I say that's jealousy."

"Aren't there any other motors about here?"

"Oh, yes! we have fourteen in all. But nobody else gets around like
the Old Lady Ericson. She's out, rain er shine, over the whole
county, chargin' into town and out amongst her farms, an' up to her
sons' places. Sure you ain't goin' to the wrong place?" He craned
his neck and looked at Nils' flute-case with eager curiosity. "The
old woman ain't got any piany that I knows on. Olaf, he has a grand.
His wife's musical; took lessons in Chicago."

"I'm going up there to-morrow," said Nils imperturbably. He saw that
the driver took him for a piano-tuner.

"Oh, I see!" The old man screwed up his eyes mysteriously. He was a
little dashed by the stranger's non-communicativeness, but he soon
broke out again.

"I'm one o' Mis' Ericson's tenants. Look after one of her places. I
did own the place myself oncet, but I lost it a while back, in the
bad years just after the World's Fair. Just as well, too, I say.
Lets you out o' payin' taxes. The Ericsons do own most of the county
now. I remember the old preacher's fav'rite text used to be, 'To
them that hath shall be given.' They've spread something
wonderful--run over this here country like bindweed. But I ain't one
that begretches it to 'em. Folks is entitled to what they kin git;
and they're hustlers. Olaf, he's in the Legislature now, and a
likely man fur Congress. Listen, if that ain't the old woman comin'
now. Want I should stop her?"

Nils shook his head. He heard the deep chug-chug of a motor
vibrating steadily in the clear twilight behind them. The pale
lights of the car swam over the hill, and the old man slapped his
reins and turned clear out of the road, ducking his head at the
first of three angry snorts from behind. The motor was running at a
hot, even speed, and passed without turning an inch from its course.
The driver was a stalwart woman who sat at ease in the front seat
and drove her car bareheaded. She left a cloud of dust and a trail
of gasoline behind her. Her tenant threw back his head and sneezed.

"Whe