"No," said John Gano, with some asperity, "I know you don't." Body-servants and "splendor" were all very well, but it was not pleasing to Mrs. Gano that her only grandson should be regarded even temporarily in the light of that character, looked at askance even in the old unenterprising South, "the gentleman of leisure." In her heart she thought it undignified that Ethan should spend so many mornings playing tennis; that he should laugh and sing with Julia Otway (another victim, plainly) as though amusement were the end of existence. Harry Wilbur, too, who had begun with a good honest detestation of the visitor at the Fort, was at the end of three weeks one of his most ardent friends. "The Wilburs want cousin Ethan to go and dine with them on Sunday," Emmie reported. "They simply love him. I don't wonder. He's going to get Harry Wilbur something to do in Boston." "Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Gano; "when is he going to get himself something to do?" Emmie and her cousin continued the best possible friends. No cloud upon that relation, at all events. He had promised to teach her to ride, but Emmie was not strong enough for violent exercise, her grandmother thought, and Emmie herself thought riding must be "awfully scary." Val, in what her elders took to be some unaccountable mood, had also declined to ride, saying, mendaciously, that she had enough riding on Julia's pony. This resulted in Ethan's going out several times with Julia. She was nearly two years older than Val, and "quite the young lady." People began to smile and speculate, and the Otways took to asking Ethan "over." "Change your mind, Val, and come out with us this morning," Ethan had said, before going off with Julia for that second ride. "I can't; I have lessons." "Not to-day," said Mrs. Gano. "No, it's Saturday. Come, I'll get you a mount." "No, thank you, father's better now. We're beginning algebra again to-day." "_Algebra!_ What on earth do you want with--" "She must keep up with her classes," said Mrs. Gano, answering for her, as Val went out of the room. But it was a good hour before the algebra lesson. Val went up to her father's room and climbed into the window-seat. There, with judicious arrangement of blind and the curtain closed in round her, she watched for Ethan to mount and ride away. Julia must have grown impatient waiting. She called for him to-day. How beautiful she looked--_beautiful_ in her new habit! Away they went laughing in the sunshine. Val opened the window; now they were turning into Mioto Avenue at a hard gallop. She drew her cautious head in out of the sweet keen air and buried her face in the musty old red moreen curtain. "Why didn't you go, child, if you wanted to so much?" She uncovered startled eyes. Her grandmother was standing there, looking strangely gentle. "Your father would have postponed the algebra for once." "I haven't got a riding-habit." "The cashmere skirt you wear when you ride out with Julia does quite well."