"Gammon!" Sally exclaimed. "I shall keep my eye on you, Dick." "That's a good place for it," Dick remarked. "Good-bye." Henrietta was laughing. "Will you race, Mr. Torrington?" she asked. "Oh, no," Dick repeated, as solemnly as before. "I have no such intention. Of course, this horse is young and full of spirits and I may not be able to control him. But my intentions are irreproachable." Henrietta laughed again. "Oh, I hope so," she said, somewhat ambiguously. Another cutter, the occupant of which had been waiting impatiently until Dick should go, drew up beside the Hazens'. The aforesaid occupant had eyes for but one person. "Won't you come with me, Sally?" He did not mean that the wrong one should be foisted upon him. Sally smiled gently and shook her head. There were so many things she had to deny him! "Thank you, Eugene. I shall join Uncle John as soon as he comes down--as soon as I see him." "Well, see him from my sleigh, then. The view is as good as from yours. Isn't it a little crowded?" Sally shook her head again. "Won't you come?" he persisted. Sally sighed. "No, I thank you, Eugene. I will stay until I see Uncle John." Bowing, Eugene Spencer drove off, leaving Sally rather sober and silent. Fox watched her and wondered, and Mrs. Ladue, in her turn, watched Fox. She could do that without being observed, now that Henrietta was gone. But the noise that told of that Sawny horse was coming, and they got into line. CHAPTER IV Whatever the things in which Everett Morton had failed, driving was not one of them. There was some excuse for his not succeeding in any of the things he had tried: he did not have to. Take away the necessity and how many of us would make a success of our business or our profession? For that matter, how many of us are there who can honestly say that we have made a success of the profession which we have happened to choose? I say "happened to choose," because it is largely a matter of luck whether we have happened to choose what we would really rather do. Any man is peculiarly fortunate if he has known enough and has been able to choose the thing that he would rather do than anything else, and such a man should have a very happy life. He should be very grateful to his parents. I envy him. Most of us are the slaves of circumstances and let them decide for us; and then, perhaps too late, discover that which we had rather--oh, so much rather--do than follow on in the occupation which fate has forced us into. We have to labor in our "leisure" time in the work which we should have chosen, but did not; as if the demands of to-day--if we would succeed--left us any leisure time!