Horatio liked to have the Snowdens in for what he called a "quiet rubber of whist" with a pitcher of cider, a box of cheap cigars, and a plate of apples on the table. Grandma Ridge sat in the dining-room, reading her _Christian Vindicator_, while Milly entertained her friends on the steps or visited at the Kemps. Occasionally she was induced to take a hand in the game. She liked Mr. Snowden. He was more the gentleman than most of her father's business friends. With his trim, grizzled mustache and his eye-glass he looked almost professional, she thought. He treated Milly gallantly, brought her flowers occasionally, and took her with his daughter to the theatre. He seemed much younger than his wife, and Milly rather pitied him for being married to her. She felt that it must have been a mistake of his youth. Her father was proud of the friendship and would repeat often,--"Snow's a smart man, I can tell you. There's a great future for Snow at Hoppers'." The Snowdens had an old-fashioned house with a stable, and kept a horse. Mr. Snowden was fond of driving, and had always a fast horse. He would come on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday and take Ridge for a drive. One Saturday afternoon he drove up to the house, and seeing Milly in the front window--it was a warm April day of their second year--motioned her to come outside. "Papa is not home yet," she said, patting the horse. "I know he isn't," Snowden remarked jerkily. "Didn't come for him--came for _you_--jump in!" Milly looked at him joyously with her glowing, child's eyes. "Really? You want me! But I'm not dressed." "You're all right--jump in--it's warm enough." And Milly without further urging got into the buggy. They went out through the boulevard to the new parkway, and when they reached the broad open road in the park, Snowden let his horse out, and they spun for a mile or more breathlessly. Milly's cheeks glowed, and her eyes danced. She was afraid that he might turn back at the end of the drive. But he kept on into a region that was almost country. Snowden talked in nervous sentences about the horse, then about Horatio, who, he said, was doing finely in the business. "He'll get on," he said, and Milly felt that Mr. Snowden was the family's good genius. "He's a good fellow--I suppose he'll marry again, one of these days." "No, he won't!" Milly replied promptly. "Not so long as he has me." "What'll he do when he loses you?" "He won't lose me." "Oh, you'll be married, Milly, 'fore you know it." She shook her head. "Not until I meet the right man," she said, and she explained volubly her lofty ideals of matrimony.