Charlie, although he may have been secretly disappointed that Henrietta's sorrow was not more serious,--he may have thought that it was of no less import than that she had found, too late, that she loved another man better than she did her husband,--Charlie, I say, although he may have been disappointed, managed to conceal whatever of disappointment he felt. "Oh," he said magnanimously and with sufficient indifference, "don't you worry about that. I can fix that. I'll just speak to Patty about it the very next time I go out there." He did; and he reported to Henrietta that he had prevailed upon Patty to consent to any arrangement she liked. He had also prevailed upon Patty--not reported to Henrietta--to scrape together as many dollars as she could conveniently manage to scrape--conveniently or inconveniently, it was all one to Charlie--and to hand them over to him for some purpose. It really does not matter what the purpose was. Charlie was very fertile in invention, and if it was not one thing it was another. Any excuse was good enough. But the strain was telling upon Patty. Charlie should have been more careful. Henrietta was so pleased with the report that she redoubled her attentions. This may not have been wise, but there seems to be no doubt that it was good for Charlie, on the whole. He went in to number seven but once before Christmas, and there might have been some ground for hope that, between Henrietta's attentions and his devotion to automobiles, he might be induced to give it up altogether. Harry Carling, who was keeping as close a watch upon Charlie as he could, hoped so, at all events. For Charlie, in his sophomore year, ran to motor cars. Indulgence of a fine fancy for motors is apt to be expensive, as Patty was finding out, but it is not as expensive as Charlie's one other diversion is apt to be, on occasion. That his one experience of it, in his first term, was not more expensive must be set down solely to luck. Automobiles were bad enough, as a diversion, for a boy who could afford them no better than Charlie Ladue. Patty learned of them with horror. She had hoped, fondly, that Charlie had given them up after his experience with them only last Easter; oh, she _hoped_ he had. She said it with tears in her eyes and with an agonized expression that would have melted a heart less hard than Charlie's. But Charlie merely smiled. That phantom car had done him no harm, although he did not call it a phantom car to Patty. Motor cars were not for the Hazens; not for people of the older régime. And Charlie smiled again and remarked that they might not have come to motors yet, but they would. Patty said, with some spirit, that they were vulgar and that they--they had a bad smell. For her part, she was satisfied to go no faster than nature intended. The horse, as Charlie might be aware, was the fastest animal that goes.