"Just the thing!" I ejaculated. Five minutes later I had
telegraphed Helen my acceptance of her invitation, and had
mentally selected books enough to busy me during a dozen
vacations. Without sharing Helen's belief that her boys were the
best ones in the world, I knew them well enough to feel assured
that they would not give me any annoyance. There were two of them,
since Baby Phil died last fall; Budge, the elder, was five years
of age, and had generally, during my flying visits to Helen, worn
a shy, serious, meditative, noble face, with great, pure,
penetrating eyes, that made me almost fear their stare. Tom
declared he was a born philanthropist or prophet, and Helen made
so free with Miss Muloch's lines as to sing:--

"Ah, the day that THOU goest a-wooing,
Budgie, my boy!"

Toddie had seen but three summers, and was a happy little know-
nothing, with a head full of tangled yellow hair, and a very
pretty fancy for finding out sunbeams and dancing in them. I had
long envied Tom his horses, his garden, his house and his
location, and the idea of controlling them for a fortnight was
particularly delightful. Tom's taste in cigars and claret I had
always respected, while the lady inhabitants of Hillcrest were,
according to my memory, much like those of every other suburban
village, the fairest of their sex.

Three days later I made the hour and a half trip between New York
and Hillcrest, and hired a hackman to drive me over to Tom's. Half
a mile from my brother-in-law's residence, our horses shied
violently, and the driver, after talking freely to them, turned to