her little attention. It is not strange that Del overvalued the merit of
these trivial attentions of hers when they were valued thus high by her
father, who longed for proofs of affection and, because of his shyness
and silence, got few.

"Hey, Del! Hurry up! Get into your hat and dust-coat!" was now heard, in
Arthur's voice, from the drive to the left of the lawns.

Hiram's glance shifted to the direction of the sound. Arthur was perched
high in a dogcart to which were attached two horses, one before the
other. Adelaide did not like to leave her father with that expression on
his face, but after a brief hesitation she went into the house. Hiram
advanced slowly across the lawn toward the tandem. When he had inspected
it in detail, at close range, he said: "Where'd you get it, young
gentleman?" Again there was stress on the "gentleman."

"Oh, I've had it at Harvard several months," he replied carelessly. "I
shipped it on. I sold the horses--got a smashing good price for 'em.
Yours ain't used to tandem, but I guess I can manage 'em."

"That style of hitching's new to these parts," continued Hiram.

Arthur felt the queerness of his father's tone. "Two, side by side, or
two, one in front of the other--where's the difference?"

True, reflected Hiram. He was wrong again--yet again unconvinced.
Certainly the handsome son, so smartly gotten up, seated in this smart
trap, did look attractive--but somehow not as he would have had _his_
son look. Adelaide came; he helped her to the lower seat. As he watched
them dash away, as fine-looking a pair of young people as ever