Then the horse stumbled again, and Daisy screamed, and again tapped
the window.

"He won't go way down," said Alice. "I think he is too stiff. Don't
worry."

"There is no stumbling to worry about with an automobile," said
Daisy.

"You couldn't use one on this hill without more risk than you take
with a stumbling horse," replied Alice. Just then a carriage drawn by
two fine bays passed them, and there was an interchange of nods.

"There is Mrs. Sturtevant," said Alice. "She isn't using the
automobile to-day."

"Doctor Sturtevant has had that coachman thirty years, and he doesn't
chew, he drives," said Daisy.

Then they drew up before the house which was their destination, Mrs.
George B. Slade's. The house was very small, but perkily pretentious,
and they drove under the porte-cochère to alight.

"I heard Mr. Slade had been making a great deal of money in cotton
lately," Daisy whispered, as the carriage stopped behind Mrs.
Sturtevant's. "Mr. and Mrs. Slade went to the opera last week. I
heard they had taken a box for the season, and Mrs. Slade had a new
black velvet gown and a pearl necklace. I think she is almost too old
to wear low neck."