“Dolly,” who might have been called Cæsar, both by reason of his sex and a stubbornly dominant nature, now fortunately subdued by years of chastening experience, strode slowly forward, his eyes rolling, his large hoofs stirring up heavy clouds of dust. There were sweet-smelling meadows stacked with newly-cured hay on either side of the road, and tufts of red clover blossoms exhaling delicious odors of honey almost under his saturnine nose; but he trotted ponderously on, sullenly aware of the gentle hand on the reins and the mild, persistent voice which bade him “Git-ap, Dolly!” Miss Lois Daggett, carrying a black silk bag, which contained a prospectus of the invaluable work which she was striving to introduce to an unappreciative public, halted the vehicle before it had reached the outskirts of the village. “Where you going, Abby?” she demanded, in the privileged tone of authority a wife should expect from her husband’s female relatives. “Just out in the country a piece, Lois,” replied Mrs. Daggett evasively. “Well, I guess I’ll git in and ride a ways with you,” said Lois Daggett. “Cramp your wheel, Abby,” she added sharply. “I don’t want to git my skirt all dust.” Miss Daggett was wearing a black alpaca skirt and a white shirtwaist, profusely ornamented with what is known as coronation braid. Her hair, very tightly frizzed, projected from beneath the brim of her straw hat on both sides. “I’m going out to see if I can catch that Orr girl this afternoon,” she explained, as she took a seat beside her sister-in-law. “She ought to want a copy of Famous People—in the best binding, too. I ain’t sold a leather-bound yit, not even in Grenoble. They come in red with gold lettering. You’d ought to have one, Abby, now that Henry’s gitting more business by the minute. I should think you might afford one, if you ain’t too stingy.” “Mebbe we could, Lois,” said Mrs. Daggett amiably. “I’ve always thought I’d like to know more about famous people: what they eat for breakfast, and how they do their back hair and—” “Don’t be silly, Abby,” Miss Daggett bade her sharply. “There ain’t any such nonsense in Famous People! _I_ wouldn’t be canvassing for it, if there was.” And she shifted her pointed nose to one side with a slight, genteel sniff. “Git-ap, Dolly!” murmured Mrs. Daggett, gently slapping the reins. Dolly responded by a single swift gesture of his tail which firmly lashed the hated reminder of bondage to his hind quarters. Then wickedly pretending that he was not aware of what had happened he strolled to the side of the road nearest the hay field. “Now, if he ain’t gone and got his tail over the lines!” cried Mrs. Daggett indignantly. “He’s got more resistin’ strength in that tail of his’n—wonder if I can—” She leaned over the dashboard and grasped the offending member with both hands. “You hang onto the lines, Lois, and give ’em a good jerk the minute I loosen up his tail.”