female meddling in business. I'll stand for most anything, but
not for that.''

Jane was now all eagerness for dropping the subject. She wished
no further prying of that shrewd mind into her secret thoughts.
``It's hardly likely I'd meddle where I know nothing about the
circumstances,'' said she. ``Will you drive me down to
Martha's?''

This request was made solely to change the subject, to shift her
father to his favorite topic for family conversation--his
daughter Martha, Mrs. Hugo Galland, her weakness for fashionable
pastimes, her incessant hints and naggings at her father about
his dowdy dress, his vulgar mannerisms of speech and of conduct,
especially at table. Jane had not the remotest intention of
letting her father drive her to Mrs. Galland's, or anywhere, in
the melancholy old phaeton-buggy, behind the fat old nag whose
coat was as shabby as the coat of the master or as the top and
the side curtains of the sorrowful vehicle it drew along at
caterpillar pace.

When her father was ready to depart for his office in the
Hastings Block--the most imposing office building in Remsen City,
Jane announced a change of mind.

``I'll ride, instead,'' said she. ``I need the exercise, and the
day isn't too warm.''

``All right,'' said Martin Hastings grumpily. He soon got enough
of anyone's company, even of his favorite daughter's. Through