"I do not understand you," said Dorothy, coldly. "Oh, my little girl!" he gurgled; "my little girl, whims in the young and beautiful are not only pardonable, they are adorable. They should be obeyed without hesitation, but the whims of the elderly are ridiculous. My friend Mrs. Lawton has whims, and that headache of hers will be helped quite as readily by a little quiet as by these wonderful drops. This is a lovely day for the view from Park Hill, and we'll just drive up there and enjoy it!" "Mr. Bulkley," broke in the distressed and angry girl, "I must insist upon getting mamma's medicine and returning at once!" And just then, through a side street leading to Broadway, came Leslie Galt, tall, well set up, well-dressed, some law books under his arm, and in his face all the pride and bright hopefulness that belong by natural right to the face of the man who goes to seek his love and ask her promise. He recognized the big chestnut as it passed his corner, and also he knew but too well who was the wearer of the white-winged, blue-veiled hat, and his heart sank like lead in his breast in bitter disappointment. He stood a moment at the corner, then, instead of turning down Broadway toward Woodsedge, he followed up the street in the direction taken by the slowly moving carriage. Dorothy had not seen him, but, instead, caught a glimpse of old black Napoleon, half-way up a bank, after a bunch of late clover blooms peeping out invitingly from the fallen leaves, while his uniformed master, a third of a block away, conversed gallantly with a sturdy young blowzy-belle of his own nationality. And even as Sybil's prophecy came into her mind, she noted a small store on her left with red and blue bottle-filled windows and stands of soda-water and cod-liver oil signs outside, and she eagerly cried: "Stop, please! Here's a drug-store!" "But," grumbled Mr. Bulkley, "I thought we were going up into the town? This is not the place you intended going to?" "Oh, any drug-store will answer," insisted the girl; "the drops are not difficult to prepare." And with an angry jerk her vexed companion pulled the fretting horse in close to the sidewalk and stopped. But as Dorothy, bottle in hand, rose, the animal started, throwing her back into her seat, and Mr. Bulkley's loud "whoa!" and violent jerk on the tormented mouth did not add much to his steadiness in standing. For again, yes, and a third time, was Dorothy's effort to descend frustrated by the irritable, nervous starting of the chestnut. And then Mr. Bulkley's always feeble hold upon his temper gave way entirely, and, snatching the bottle from the girl's hand, he violently exclaimed: "Good God! Let _me_ get out! Here!" and he flung the reins into her lap and sprang out of the trap. Answering her startled cry with "I won't be more than a moment" he started across the walk to the store.