Viola pondered rather long and deeply on what LeGrand Blossom had told
her. She made it a point to go for a drive the next afternoon with
Jean Forette in the small car, taking a maid with her on a pretense of
doing some shopping. And Viola closely observed the conduct of the
chauffeur.

On her return, the girl could not help admitting that the Frenchman
was all a careful car driver should be. He had shown skill and
foresight in guiding the car through the summer-crowded traffic of
Lakeside, and had been cheerful and polite.

"I am sorry you are going to leave us, Jean," she said, when he had
brought her back to The Haven.

"I, too, am regretful," he said in his careful English. "But your
father had other ideas, and I - I am really afraid of that big new car.
It is not a machine, mademoiselle, it is - pardon - it is a devil! It
will be the death of some one yet. I could never drive it."

"But if we sold that car, Jean, as we are going to do - "

"I could not stay, Miss Viola. I have a new place, and to that I go in
two weeks. I am sorry, for I liked it here, though - Oh, well, of what
use?" and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Was there something you did not like? Did my father not treat you
well?" asked Viola quickly.

"Oh, as to that, mademoiselle, I should not speak. I liked your father.