result of the inquiry I saw she had gone to make.

XIV

I FORGET MY AGE, OR, RATHER, REMEMBER IT

Mr. Trohm did not disappoint my expectations. In another moment I
perceived him standing in the open doorway with the most genial smile on
his lips.

"Miss Butterworth," said he, "I feel too honored. If you will deign to
accept a seat in my buggy, I shall only be too happy to drive you home."

I have always liked the manners of country gentlemen. There is just a
touch of formality in their bearing which has been quite eliminated from
that of their city brothers. I therefore became gracious at once and
accepted the seat he offered me without any hesitation.

The heads that showed themselves at the neighboring windows warned us to
hasten on our route. Mr. Trohm, with a snap of his whip, touched up his
horse, and we rode in dignified calm away from the hotel steps into the
wide village street known as the main road. The fact that Mr. Gryce had
told me that this was the one man I could trust, joined to my own
excellent knowledge of human nature and the persons in whom explicit
confidence can be put, made the moment one of great satisfaction to me.
I was about to make my appearance at the Knollys mansion two hours
before I was expected, and thus outwit Lucetta by means of the one man
whose assistance I could conscientiously accept.

We were not slow in beginning conversation. The fine air, the prosperous
condition of the town offered themes upon which we found it quite easy
to dilate, and so naturally and easily did our acquaintanceship progress
that we had turned the corner into Lost Man's Lane before I quite
realized it. The entrance from the village offered a sharp contrast to
the one I had already traversed. There it was but a narrow opening
between sombre and unduly crowding trees. Here it was the gradual
melting of a village street into a narrow and less frequented road,
which only after passing Deacon Spear's house assumed that aspect of
wildness which a quarter of a mile farther on deepened into something
positively sombre and repellent.

I speak of Deacon Spear because he was sitting on his front doorstep
when we rode by. As he was a resident in the lane, I did not fail to
take notice of him, though guardedly and with such restraint as a
knowledge of his widowed condition rendered both wise and proper.

He was not an agreeable-looking person, at least to me. His hair was
sleek, his beard well cared for