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dog when Claymore arrived for Wanda.Upon the breathless entry of Missie into her chamber, and a hasty explanation of the situation, she had on her little buff straw bonnet and a paisley shawl that clashed dreadfully with her sprigged muslin in the twinkling of a bedpost. There was really no need for such haste, for the gentlemen arrived at the appointed hour, and naturally Wanda the Wonderful had to keep them waiting for a quarter of an hour while she put the finishing touches on her toilette. She was not such a flat as to be ready and waiting! A protective layer of Gowland’s Lotion was carefully applied to her charming visage, for wind and sun wreaked havoc with a delicate complexion. Then she had to try on the mauve silk pelisse and see whether it didn’t go better with the yellow gown, but it looked gaudy, so she exchanged it for the green crocheted shawl, as Mama had suggested.  
     By the time she had got a fresh hankie and transferred all her essential items to her yellow and green beaded reticule and descended the staircase, the party were all chomping at the bit to get going, and it was only the grandness of her getup that put Claymore back into good humor. Even that did not quite restore the others.
    Clay’s curricle headed off first, and as his grays were fresh as rain it was not long before he put a few hundred yards between his carriage and his friend’s. Missie’s suggestion of a race appealed strongly to him, but he noticed that Wanda was already holding tightly to the edge of the seat, and not even trying to make conversation as it took all her efforts to just remain seated.
    “Shall I slow down?” he asked.
    “Oh no. Such fun! Very exhilarating to be jolting along at this rate. It makes me quite giddy with pleasure.” Clay smiled at her, and thought how the girl was traduced by her jealous detractors. She would have loved a race. But within a half-hour her giddy pleasure had given over to plain giddiness, and she had to beg him to slacken the pace, just a little, as her hands were quite cramped from holding on for dear life.
    At their reduced speed it was not long before they were caught up byRex and his party, and when Wanda risked a glance over her shoulder, she said, “Perhaps you had ought to slow down just a trifle more, and let them pass.” He did so, and the ladies in the other carriage had obviously great powers of balance, for their hands were free to wave merrily as they shot by.
    “There is no great hurry, is there?” Wanda asked apologetically.
    “Certainly not. The day is so fine, and the scenery so beautiful, that we shall just poke along at a nice slow trot and enjoy ourselves.”
    Conversation was possible at the five miles an hour to which they were reduced, and Wanda undertook to amuse her driver by pointing out the various farms they passed, and mentioned the names of the owners, and something of their condition. After a few miles she said, “It is very hot, it is not?”
    “You might take off your shawl,” Claymore pointed out.
    “Oh no, my shoulders are freezing. It is only my face that is hot. It is that sun, beating right in my eyes. We ought to have remembered the sun would be in our eyes if we drove west in the afternoon. I hope I don’t become all splotched.” She bent her head, so that the rim of her bonnet might protect her from the sun’s blasts. Short of turning the carriage around and heading home, Claymore was at a loss as to how he might protect his precious charge from the elements.
    “The sun will be behind us on the way home,” he said hopefully.
    “We should have brought a closed carriage,” she replied. But she rallied after this exchange, just when he was sure she was going to sink into the sulks. She even raised her head from its bent position, and pointed out that the little farm there, rather falling apart, belonged to Tom Langdon. He had a daughter, Nora. A very nice girl. She further forgot herself so far as to crane her neck around after