“Minerva and James, these are Mrs. Guernsea and her daughter, Miss Guernsea, and they wish you to sing some of your songs.” Both Mrs. Guernsea and the daughter smiled very seriously, and I helped them to alight from the carriage. They took their stand on the green sward, and as I would not have felt comfortable to remain seated with them standing, I left my seat, and so Ethel was the only one who had a seat at the concert. After a little self conscious giggling on Minerva’s part, a giggling that James reprimanded with native dignity, the pair began “Steal Away.” [Illustration: “Steal away.”] The richly caparisoned horses, to employ a term that has been faithful to writers these many years, the beautiful Victoria, handsomely japanned, the earnest songsters leaning back on the cushions and singing the plaintive song, while the fashionable Guernseas stood and drank it all in, formed a picture as unusual as it was pleasing—to me. Midway in the second verse, even as the Guernseas had surprised us the day before, so to-day the pastor of the Second Congregational Church surprised us to-day by driving past in his buggy, accompanied by his wife. I think he had meant to stop, but when he saw what was going on, he simply opened his mouth; his good wife opened her mouth, and I think the horse opened its mouth, and they drove by. They had seen the simple life being lived by six persons. James and Minerva were ready for an encore, but it did not occur to either Mrs. Guernsea or her daughter to applaud. They contented themselves by saying it was very charming. But I felt that the labourers were worthy of their hire, and still thinking of the simple life and equality, I said to Mrs. Guernsea, in the most matter of course way: “I wonder if you wouldn’t let James take Minerva out for a short drive in return for their singing? James is an expert driver.” Mrs. Guernsea was not at all hard, and besides, I believe that she was in a way hypnotised; so with scarce a moment’s hesitation she said: “Why, certainly. You won’t be gone long, I suppose?” “Oh, no ma’am. We’ll just drive around the square.” The “square” was a stretch of country road some two miles in length. James unhitched the horses and mounted the driver’s seat, but Minerva sprawled luxuriously in the seat in which she had sung. James tightened the reins and the horses started off at what is called a spanking pace by those who know. What happened thereafter was told me in part by James, and I will give the substance of it. It seems that he had not gone very far when he met John, the driver.