Seated together in the carriage, the conversation between the two turned on Thorndyke. Annette expressed frankly the deep regard she had for him, and described her efforts to keep the children from annoying him, while Thorndyke, from simple tolerance of them at first, had become an accomplished child-spoiler and destroyer of parental discipline. Constance spoke of Thorndyke as frankly and without the least embarrassment, but Annette, who had surmised very readily where Constance stood in the regard of two men, one of them her own husband, had little difficulty in settling to her own satisfaction that Miss Maitland had a particular regard for Mr. Thorndyke. After driving for three-quarters of an hour along a suburban road, they came to the cottage where the Cranes had established their quarters. It was near six o’clock, and Crane had returned early from the Capitol. He was sitting on the veranda reading to Roger and Elizabeth when Constance Maitland’s carriage drove up. Since the meeting with his children and noting their perfectly respectful, but perfectly evident, indifference toward him, Crane had received a blow where he least expected it. He was surprised at the degree to which it affected him. Their laughing eyes, suddenly growing demure on his approach, haunted him amid the hurly-burly of debate, and in long conferences on his political future. Impelled by all the natural impulses, Crane determined to try and win his children’s hearts; and as a beginning, he had come home early from the House that day, bringing with him a book to read to them. The reading had been a success, and in the midst of it Crane looked up and saw the victoria approaching with his wife and Constance Maitland in it. He rose at once and walked down the shady path to where the carriage stood. The children, hand in hand, followed after, blowing kisses to their mother. Crane was so possessed with the idea that Annette, as a native of Circleville, must be far inferior to Constance, that he had a shock of surprise when he saw the two women actually compared, and realised that Annette was by no means cast into the shade. Constance was conscious of this, but good-naturedly wished Annette to have the benefit of it. Crane talked pleasantly with Constance for a few minutes, Annette still sitting in the carriage. He was certainly remarkably handsome, as the declining sun shone on his clear-cut, olive face, with the little rings of dark-brown hair showing on his forehead. Constance thought the Cranes the handsomest couple she had seen for a long time. The children were introduced, behaved well, as American, and especially Western, children seldom do--and then Constance said to Annette: “I shall soon be closing my house for the season, but before doing so, I hope to have you and Mr. Crane to dinner with me some evening.” “We will come with pleasure,” replied Annette; and a date was arranged for the following week.