melled cigar smoke.

"He's smoking," said Sylvia. "Well, nothing makes much difference to
you men, as long as you can smoke. I'd like to know what you'd do in
my place."

"Have you got anything on your mind, Sylvia?"

"Didn't I say I hoped I had? Everybody has something on her mind,
unless she's a tarnation fool, and I ain't never set up for one."

Henry did not speak again.

Chapter XIV

The next morning at breakfast Rose announced her intention of going
to see if Lucy Ayres would not go to drive with her.

"There's one very nice little horse at the livery-stable," said she,
"and I can drive. It is a beautiful morning, and poor Lucy did not
look very well yesterday, and I think it will do her good."

Horace turned white. Henry noticed it. Sylvia, who was serving
something, did not. Henry had thought he had arrived at a knowledge
of Horace's suspicions, which in themselves seemed to him perfectly
groundless, and now that he had, as he supposed, proved them to be
so, he was profoundly puzzled. Before he had gone to Horace's
assistance. Now he did not see his way clear towards doing so, and
saw no necessity for it. He ate his breakfast meditatively. Horace
pushed away his plate and rose.

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Sylvia. "Don't you feel well, Mr.
Allen?"

"Perfectly well; never felt better."

"You haven't eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive."

"I have eaten fast," said Horace. "I have to make an early start this
morning. I have some work to do before school."

Rose apparently paid no attention. She went on with her plans for her
drive.

"Are you sure you know how to manage a horse?" said Sylvia,
anxiously. "I used to drive, but I can't go with you because the
washerwoman is coming."

"Of course I can drive," said Rose. "I love to drive. And I don't
believe there's a horse in the stable that would get out of a walk,
anyway."

"You won't try to pass by any steam-rollers, and you'll look out for
automobiles, won't you?" said Sylvia.

Horace left them talking and set out hurriedly. When he reached the
Ayres house he entered the gate, passed between the flowering shrubs
which bordered the gravel walk, and rang the bell with vigor. He was
desperate. Lucy herself opened the door. When she saw Horace she
turned red, then white. She was dressed neatly in a little blue
cotton wrapper, and her pretty hair was arranged as usual, with the
exception of one tiny curl-paper on her forehead. Lucy's ha