"So the first afternoon when he drove around with his speedy little
brown horse and his rubber tired buggy and asked me to go for a drive,
father smiled, and Aunt Grace demurred not. Maybe I could give him a
little more light. I watched him pretty closely the first mile or so.
He had nothing to say until we were a mile out of town. He is a
good-looking fellow, Carol,--you remember, of course, because you never
forget the boys, especially the good-looking ones. His eyes were clear
and slightly humorous, as if he knew a host of funny things if he only
chose to tell. Finally in answer to my reproachful gaze, he said:

"'Well, I didn't have anything to say about it, did I? I did not ask
to be born a minister's son. It was foreordained, and now I've got to
live up to it in self-defense. There may be forgiveness for other
erring ones, but I tell you our crowd is spotted.'

"I had nothing to say.

"'Well, you might at least say, "Good for you, my boy. Here's luck?"'
he complained.

"I was still silent.

"'It is good business, too,' he continued belligerently. 'I am selling
lots of furniture. I have burned the black and white cards. I have
broken the ice-cold bottles. I have shunned the gilded youths with
mellow voices. I go to church. I sell furniture. I sleuth Matters.'

"'You what?'

"'I am trailing Matters. Turn about. Where he goeth, I goeth. Where