had been the pride and glory of the Kingsbury
of the '70s: there were many churches, some graceful and some hideous.
At the end of the street they came upon a common, surrounded by stone
posts and a railing, with a monument in the middle of it, and facing the
common on the north side was a rambling edifice with many white gables,
in front of which, from an iron arm on a post, swung a quaint sign,
"Kingsbury Tavern." In revolutionary and coaching days the place bad
been a famous inn; and now, thanks to the enterprise of a man who had
foreseen the possibilities of an era of automobiles, it had become even
more famous. A score of these modern vehicles were drawn up before it
under the bare, ancient elms; there was a scene of animation on the
long porch, where guests strolled up and down or sat in groups in the
rocking-chairs which the mild weather had brought forth again. Ditmar
drew up in line with the other motors, and stopped.

"Well, here we are!" he exclaimed, as he pulled off his gauntlets. "I
guess I could get along with something to eat. How about you? They treat
you as well here as any place I know of in New England."

He assumed their lunching together at a public place as a matter of
course to which there could not possibly be an objection, springing
out of the car, removing the laprobe from her knees, and helping her to
alight. She laid the roses on the seat.

"Aren't you going to bring them along?" he demanded.

"I'd rather not," she said. "Don't you think they'll be safe here?"

"Oh, I guess so," he replied. She was always surprising him; but
her solicitation concerning them was a balm, and he found all such
instinctive acts refreshing.

"Afraid of putting up too much of a front, are you?" he asked smilingly.

"I'd rather leave them here," she replied. As she walked beside Ditmar
to the door she was excited, unwontedly self-conscious, painfully aware
of inspection by the groups on the porch. She had seen such people as
these hurrying in automobiles through the ugliness of Faber Street
in Hampton toward just such delectable spots as this village of
Kingsbury--people of that world of freedom and privilege from which she
was excluded; Ditmar's world. He was at home here. But she? The delusion
that she somehow had been miraculously snatched up into it was marred by
their glances. What were they thinking of her? Her face was hot as she
passed them and entered the hall, where more people were gathered. But
D