"'Flyin'!'" Phineas could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly's plodding hoofs. "An' the trees an' the houses swept by like ghosts," continued Diantha. "Why, Phineas, I could 'a' rode on an' on furever!" Before the ecstatic rapture in Diantha's face Phineas went down in defeat. Without one word he turned away--but in his heart he registered a solemn vow: he, too, would have an automobile; he, too, would make Diantha wish to ride on and on forever! Arduous days came then to Phineas. Phineas was not a rich man. He had enough for his modest wants, but until now those wants had not included an automobile--until now he had not known that Diantha wished to fly. All through the autumn and winter Phineas pinched and economized until he had lopped off all of the luxuries and most of the pleasures of living. Even then it is doubtful if he would have accomplished his purpose had he not, in the spring, fallen heir to a modest legacy of a few thousand dollars. The news of his good fortune was not two hours old when he sought Diantha. "I cal'late mebbe I'll be gettin' me one o' them 'ere autymobiles this spring," he said, as if casually filling a pause in the conversation. "_Phineas_!" At the awed joy in Diantha's voice the man's heart glowed within him. This one moment of triumph was worth all the long miserable winter with its butterless bread and tobaccoless pipes. But he carefully hid his joy when he spoke. "Yes," he said nonchalantly. "I'm goin' ter Boston next week ter pick one out. I cal'late on gettin' a purty good one." "Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin' ter run it?" Phineas's chin came up. "Run it!" he scoffed. "Well, I hain't had no trouble yet steerin' a hoss, an' I cal'late I won't have any more steerin' a mess o' senseless metal what hain't got no eyes ter be seein' things an' gittin' scared! I don't worry none 'bout runnin' it." "But, Phineas, it ain't all steerin'," ventured Diantha, timidly. "There's lots of little handles and things ter turn, an' there's some things you do with your feet. Colonel Smith did." The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder. He flamed instantly into wrath. "Well, I cal'late what Colonel Smith does, I can," he snapped. "Besides"--airily--"mebbe I shan't git the feet kind, anyhow; I want the best. There's as much as four or five kinds, Jim Blair says, an' I cal'late ter try 'em all." "Oh-h!" breathed Diantha, falling back in her chair with an ecstatic sigh. "Oh, Phineas, won't it be grand!" And Phineas, seeing the joyous light in her eyes, gazed straight down a vista of happiness that led to wedding bells and bliss. Phineas was gone some time on his Boston trip. When he returned he looked thin and worried. He started nervously at trivial noises, and his eyes showed a furtive restlessness that quickly caused remark. "Why, Phineas, you don't look well!" Diantha exclaimed when she saw him. "Well? Oh, I'm well."