saying? She's
so sot up at being allowed to take her brother's place in the winder
that she don't know how to keep her tongue still. Rob's a little
languid, that's all. You'll see him in his old place to-morrow." And she
drew back as if in polite intimation that we might drive on.

Mr. Simsbury responded to the suggestion, and in another moment we were
trotting down the road. Had we stayed a minute longer, I think the child
would have said something more or less interesting to hear.

The horse, which had brought us thus far at a pretty sharp trot, now
began to lag, which so attracted Mr. Simsbury's attention, that he
forgot to answer even by a grunt more than half of my questions. He
spent most of his time looking at the nag's hind feet, and finally, just
as we came in sight of the stores, he found his tongue sufficiently to
announce that the horse was casting a shoe and that he would be obliged
to go to the blacksmith's with her.

"Humph, and how long will that take?" I asked.

He hesitated so long, rubbing his nose with his finger, that I grew
suspicious and cast a glance at the horse's foot myself. The shoe was
loose. I began to hear it clang.

"Waal, it may be a matter of a couple of hours," he finally drawled. "We
have no blacksmith in town, and the ride up there is two miles. Sorry it
happened, ma'am, but there's all sorts of shops here, you see, and I've
allers heard that a woman can easily spend two hours haggling away in
shops."

I glanced at the two ill-furnished windows he pointed out, thought of
Arnold & Constable's, Tiffany's, and the other New York establishments I
had been in the habit of visiting, and suppressed my disdain. Either the
man was a fool or he was acting a part in the interests of Lucetta and
her family. I rather inclined to the latter supposition. If the plan was
to keep me out most of the morning why could that shoe not have been
loosened before the mare left the stable?

"I made all necessary purchases while in New York," said I, "but if you
must get the horse shod, why, take her off and do it. I suppose there is
a hotel parlor near here where I can sit."

"Oh, yes," and he made haste to point out to me where the hotel stood.
"And it's a very nice place, ma'am. Mrs. Carter, the landlady, is the
nicest sort of person. Only you won't try to go home, ma'am, on foot?
You'll wait till I come back for you?"

"It isn't likely I'll go streaking through Lost Man's Lane alone," I
exclaime