"It's that Miss Cameron with the red hair!" cried Rosalie, with startling suddenness. Gilbert's face grew hot. "Well, and what of that?" he asked reasonably. Rosalie held her pretty head high. "Tell her you must take me," she said firmly. "Rosalie!" cried Gilbert, "you couldn't ask me to do that. Miss Cameron is a lady, and she is proud, and----wait. Come for a little drive now. We can be back before the others are ready to leave." "I will, if you promise me you will not drive her home afterward." "Surely," he cried in dismay, "you wouldn't want me to be rude to her?" Rosalie stood for a moment looking searchingly at him. He was changed. He was not the boy who for three years had been ready to do her slightest bidding, no matter what the consequences. Just because she had condescended to become engaged to him he was assuming airs of authority. Well, their engagement was a secret yet--she had insisted upon that--and she could soon find a way to frighten him into submission. "It's the only favor I've asked of you for six months," she said coldly, "and if you do not want to grant it I shall never humiliate myself by asking another." "Rosalie!" cried Gilbert desperately, "if you only understood----" "I understand only too well," she flashed back. "Are you coming, or are you not?" "I am very sorry," said Gilbert, politely but stubbornly, "but I cannot be rude to a lady even for your sake." She turned her back upon him without another word, and walking straight up to Elsie Cameron, began to talk to her in the friendliest manner. Gilbert stood watching her, puzzled and dismayed, and wondering desperately what he should do, when the attention of all was called by a singular proceeding on the race track. An interesting display, the chief number on the program, had just closed--the exhibition of ladies' horsemanship, and, as usual, Ella Anne Long had carried off the palm. After the prizes were awarded it was the custom for the winners to drive around the ring several times, each lady bearing with her some highly-favored youth, somewhat as the conquering Romans attached their most distinguished captives to their triumphal car. While Miss Long, flushed with victory, was holding her horse till the judge fastened the ticket to his tossing head, Sawed-Off Wilmott stepped forward, feeling sure that the place of honor by Ella Anne's side would certainly be his. But just as he came sidling up, with a boyish step, a stalwart young farmer, one of the Highland Scotch giants from the Glenoro hills, elbowed his way up to the buggy. He had been casting admiring glances at Miss Long all afternoon, and now, without permission or apology, he sprang into the seat beside her. "Thanks, awful much!" he cried jovially. Then in a lower tone, half humble, half daring, "You're going to take me around, ain't you?"