At the barn, “the coachman” was luckily absent, so Tess could harness up her steed without embarrassing questions. At the sight of the steed of the occasion, Missy's spirits for a moment sagged a bit; nor did old Ben present a more impressive appearance when, finally, he began to turkey-trot down Maple Avenue. His right haunch lifted--fell--lifted--fell, in irritating rhythm as his bulky feet clumped heavily on the macadam. Tess had insisted that Missy should occupy the driver's seat with her, though Missy wanted to recline luxuriously behind, perhaps going by home to pick up Poppy--that is, Fifine--to hold warm and perdu in her lap. But practical Tess pointed out that such an act might attract the attention of Mrs. Merriam and bring the adventure to an end. They proceeded down Maple Avenue. It was Tess's intention to turn off at Silver Street, to leave the first carte d'invitation at the home of Mr. Raymond Bonner. These documents were proudly scented (and incidentally spotted) from Mrs. O'Neill's cologne bottle. Young Mr. Bonner resided in one of the handsomest houses in Cherryvale, and was himself the handsomest boy in the crowd. Besides, he had more than once looked at Missy with soft eyes--the girls “teased” Missy about Raymond. It was fitting that Raymond should receive the first billet doux. So, at the corner of Maple and Silver, Tess pulled the rein which should have turned Ben into the shady street which led to Raymond's domicile. Ben moved his head impatiently, and turkey-trotted straight ahead. Tess pulled the rein more vigorously; Ben twitched his head still more like a swear word and, with a more pronounced shrug of his haunch, went undivertingly onward. “What's the matter?” asked Missy. “Is Ben a little--wild?” “No--I don't think so,” replied Tess, but her tone was anxious. “I guess that it's just that he's used to Tim. Then I'm sort of out of practice driving.” “Well, we can just as well stop at Lester's first, and come back by Raymond's.” But when Tess attempted to manoeuvre Ben into Lester's street, Ben still showed an inalienable and masterful preference for Maple Avenue. Doggedly ahead he pursued his turkey-trotting course, un-mindful of tuggings, coaxings, or threats, till, suddenly, at the point where Maple runs into the Public Square, he made a turn into Main so abrupt as to send the inner rear wheel up onto the curb. “My!” gasped Missy, regaining her balance. “He IS wild, isn't he? Do you think, maybe--”