Down in the library Foster Townsend was lounging in the leather chair and thinking over his new plan of campaign as so far carried out. He was very well satisfied. He was quite well aware that he had made a favorable impression. Figuratively he patted himself on the back for the happy astuteness which had given Reliance Clark a seat at that concert. _That_ was the cleverest stroke of the evening. Not that he intended sharing his niece’s future with Reliance or any one else. She was his, and little by little he would make her altogether so. She was a good-looking girl, a clever girl, and he was beginning to believe he had made no mistake in bringing her to his home. With his money and under his guidance she might be, not only the new interest he had sought, but a daughter to be proud of. The little flashes of temper and independence she had shown made the prospect only more alluring. He would make her trot in harness, give him time. His training of the skittish colt so far was not so bad--not so bad. CHAPTER V The first step in that training was, of course, to inspire the colt with trust and liking for her new master. When that trust and liking were established the next move must be to make her so satisfied and happy in her new surroundings that the last lingering regret at leaving the old should fade away. She must be driven with a light hand on the reins, a touch so gentle that she would not realize it was there. Confidence first, then contentment, next the gradual awakening of new aspirations and ambitions--after these the rein might tighten and she could be guided into and along the road he intended she should travel. That was the program. Foster Townsend proceeding to carry it out. The trust and liking first. That little disagreement following the meeting with Millard was the last between the uncle and niece for many a day. Townsend had learned his lesson. The next day, when they rode behind the span, he stopped before the Clark cottage and suggested that they run in and say “Hello” to Reliance. The latter was busy in the millinery shop and was surprised to see them there. The call lasted nearly an hour. Esther enjoyed it greatly, so, too, apparently, did Miss Clark. Abbie Makepeace, the middle-aged partner in the business, was at first in a state of nervous embarrassment, but their distinguished visitor was so gracious, so chattily affable and easy, so interested in the bits of local gossip she offered as contributions to the conversation, that she ended in complete surrender. “Well, I declare, Reliance!” she exclaimed, when the shop door had closed. “I don’t see where the time has gone, I swear I don’t! Seems as if he--I mean they--hadn’t been here five minutes. I don’t see how folks can say Cap’n Townsend is--well, high and mighty and--and all like that.” Miss Clark put in a word. “Seems to me I remember hearin’ you say what amounted to that, Abbie,” she observed, dryly. Abbie was momentarily taken aback.