"See here, Miss Mackintosh, your principles needn't be upset by one small dog. Come, do him; not his bust, but the whole of him. A life-sized statue," added Chase, laughing; "he must be about eleven inches long! Do him for me," he went on, boldly, looking at her with secret amusement; for he had never seen such an oaken bearing as that of this Asheville spinster. Maud Muriel did not relax the tension of her muscles; in fact, she could not. The condition called "clinched," which with most persons is occasional only, had with her become chronic. Nevertheless, somehow, she consented. "I'll get the darling this minute," cried Ruth, hurrying out. And Chase followed her. "Well, here you are again! What did I tell you?" said the sculptress to Miss Billy, when they were left alone. "I did not mean to come, Maud Muriel. I really did not intend--" Billy began. "What place, Wilhelmina, is _paved_ with good intentions? Now, of course, we shall be going home with each other all the rest of the day!" declared the sculptress, good-humoredly. Meanwhile, outside, Ruth was suggesting to Horace Chase, coaxingly, that he should wait until she could find her dog, and bring him to the barn. "Because if _you_ are not with me, Maud Muriel will be sure to change her mind!" "Not she. She is no more changeable than a telegraph pole. I am afraid I must leave you now, Miss Ruth; for the men are waiting to see me about the horses." "Whose horses?" "Mine." "Did you send for them? Oh, _I_ love horses too. Where are they?" "At the Old North stables. So you like horses? I'll drive the pair round, then, in a day or two, to show them to you." And after shaking hands with her--Chase always shook hands--he went towards the village; for Maud Muriel's barn was on the outskirts. In figure he was tall, thin, and muscular. He never appeared to be in haste; all his movements were leisurely, even his words coming out with deliberation. His voice was pitched in a low key; his articulation was extremely distinct; sometimes, when amused, he had a slight humorous drawl. Ruth looked after him for a moment. Then she went in search of her dog. A little later Anthony Etheridge paid his usual morning visit to the post-office. On his return, when near his own abode, he met Horace Chase. "A mail in?" inquired Chase, quickly, as he saw the letters. "No; they came last night. _I_ am never in a hurry about mails," answered Etheridge. "You younger fellows have not learned, as I have, that among every six letters, say, four at least are sure to be more or less disagreeable. Well, have you decided? Are you coming to my place?" For Etheridge had rooms in a private house, where he paid for a whole wing in order that his night's rest should not be disturbed by other tenants, who might perhaps bring in young children; with his usual thriftiness, he had offered his lower floor to Chase.