old-fashioned coach; while there was, besides, a light buggy, which
Hector was accustomed to consider his own. It was he, generally, who
used this, for his father preferred to take a driver, and generally
took an airing, either alone or with Hector, in the more stately
carriage, drawn by two horses.

Hector walked across the lawn and entered the carriage house, where
Edward, the coachman, was washing the carriage. As the former is to
be our hero, we may pause to describe him.

He was fifteen, slenderly but strongly made, with a clear skin and
dark eyes and a straightforward look. He had a winning smile, that
attracted all who saw it, but his face could assume a different
expression if need be. There were strong lines about his mouth that
indicated calm resolution and strength of purpose. He was not a boy
who would permit himself to be imposed upon, but was properly
tenacious of his rights.

As he entered the carriage house, he looked about him in some
surprise.

"Where is the buggy, Edward?" he asked.

"Master Guy is driving out in it."

"How is that?" said Hector. "Doesn't he know that it is mine? He
might, at least, have asked whether I intended to use it."

"That is what I told him."