ia was away!" "My! Isn't he a good-looker!"

They had all turned like needles to the north, and stared as the
spider-light wagon, glistening with varnish, bore down on them, looking
singularly distinguished and costly among the dingy business-vehicles
which made up the traffic of the crowded street. The young driver guided
the high-stepping gray with a reckless, competent hand through the most
incredibly narrow openings and sent his vehicle up against the
flower-like group of girls, laughing as he drew rein, at the open,
humorous outcry against him. A chorus of eager recrimination rose to his
ears, "Now, Mr. Hollister, this is the first time Lydia's been out with
our crowd since she came home!" "You might let her alone!" "Go away,
Paul, you greedy thing!" "I haven't asked Lydia a single thing about her
European trip!"

"Well, maybe you think," he cried, springing out to the sidewalk, "that
I've been spending the last year traveling around Europe with Lydia! I
haven't heard any more than you have." He threw aside the lap-robe of
supple broadcloth, and offered his hand to Lydia. A flash of resentment
at the cool silence of this invitation sprang up in the girl's eyes.
There was in her face a despairing effort at mutiny. Her hands nervously
opened and shut the clasp of the furs at her throat. She tried to look
unconscious, to look like the other girls, to laugh, not to know his
meaning, to turn away.

The young man plunged straight through these pitiful cobwebs. "Why, come
on, Lydia," he cried with a good-humored pointedness, "I've been all
over town looking for you." She backed away, looking over her shoulder,
as if for a lane of escape, flushing, paling. "Oh, no, no thank you,
Paul. Not _this_ afternoon!" she cried imploringly, with a soft fury of
protest, "I'm on my way to Father's office. I want to walk home with
him. I want to see him. I thought it would be nice to walk home with
him. I see so little of him! I thought it would be nice to walk home
with him." She was repeating herself, stammering and uncertain, but
achieving nevertheless a steady retreat from the confident figure
standing by the wagon.

This retreat was cut short by his next speech. "Oh, I've just come from
your father. I went to his office, thinking you might be there. He said
to tell you and your mother that he won't be home to dinner to-night at
all. He's got some citations on hand he has to verify."

Lydia had stopped her actual recoil at his