Not another word was spoken till the hotel was reached; then, as Mark helped Helen out, she said to him again, “I am sorry I gave you pain.” “And I am glad you did,” was his answer. They found Uncle Zach in the depths of humiliation and remorse. He had confessed to Dot the affair with the safe and received so severe a castigation from her tongue that he had crept up to the garret and looked at “Taylor’s Tavern” and Johnny’s blanket, and the envelope with Zacheus Taylor Esq. on it and had sat a long time on the trunk wondering if he were a fool, with no more judgment than a child, as Dot said he was. “I guess I be,” he said, “but if Johnny had lived I b’lieve I’d been more of a man;” and a few hot tears fell upon the yellow blanket which was once little Johnny’s. The sight of Taylor’s Tavern did not have its usual uplifting effect, for there was still Mark to meet. But Mark did not prove very formidable. Jeff had told him the whole story, blaming Mrs. Tracy most, and saying, “If I’s you, I’d let him off easy. The old lady lammed him till he felt so small you could put him in a coffee pot. It hain’t done no harm. He’d forgot how to work the combination. Miss Tracy can’t open it, nor Celine, neither. Nobody but _me_.” “And if I ever catch you at it I’ll break every bone in your body,” Mark said, expending his wrath on the boy, who, with a laugh, went rolling off on the grass. “I didn’t or’to do it; no, I didn’t or’ter,” Uncle Zach said, half an hour later to Mark, who answered, “That’s so; but I reckon no harm is done. Jeff is the only one who is any wiser, and we can manage him.” Thus reassured Uncle Zach brightened wonderfully, and inquired if Paul and Virginny had kept up their character. “Yes, more than kept it up,” Craig answered for Mark. He had come to the office to drop into the letter box a hastily written postal to his coachman in Auburndale, telling him to send up Dido and his new light buggy at once. He had made up his mind to this that afternoon and already anticipated the pleasure it would be to drive over the Ridgefield hills with the young ladies, meaning mostly Helen, who had woven her spell around him when he sat on the broken wall with his arm supporting her and her head on his shoulder. His mother might not approve, but he was old enough to act for himself. To go out with the bloods again was impossible. So Dido was sent for, and Craig told his mother of it before he went to bed. Mrs. Mason made no comment except to ask how soon he expected his horse. He didn’t know,—within three days at the latest, and glad that his mother had taken the matter so quietly, he said good night and went to his room to dream of laughing brown eyes, which had stirred in him feelings he had never believed could be stirred by one whom he had not known twenty-four hours.