top pressed flat, its narrow seat and a high-headed, high-reined,
half-thoroughbred restive between the slender shafts; and a moment
later, smiled a good-by to the placid lady, who, with a sigh that was
half an envious memory, half the throb of a big, kind heart, turned to
her own carriage, assuring herself that it really was imperative for her
to drive to town, if for no other reason than to see that her
mischievous boy got out of town with the younger Crittenden's brake.

Judith and Crittenden were out of the push of cart, carriage, wagon, and
street-car now, and out of the smoke and dust of the town, and
Crittenden pulled his horse down to a slow trot. The air was clear and
fragrant and restful. So far, the two had spoken scarcely a dozen words.
Crittenden was embarrassed--he hardly knew why--and Judith saw it, and
there was a suppressed smile at the corners of her mouth which
Crittenden did not see.

"It's too bad."

Crittenden turned suddenly.

"It's a great pleasure."

"For which you have Mrs. Stanton to thank. You would have got it for
yourself five--dear me; is it possible?--five years ago."

"Seven years ago," corrected Crittenden, grimly. "I was more
self-indulgent seven years ago than I am now."

"And the temptation was greater then."