fifty from New York!” said she. “You’ll have plenty of time.” She came nearer to him. “Please, please be quick!” she said. “It’s my last chance!”

VIII

“To the left, and straight ahead!” said Amy, as they drove out of the gates.

So, to the left he turned, and drove straight ahead. And he looked straight ahead, too, although he knew very well that she was looking at him. This girl took entirely too much for granted. It was one thing to help her, but to obey her orders blindly was quite another, and it did not suit him. Here he was, dressed up in a chauffeur’s uniform somewhat too small for him, and behaving, no doubt, as those other chauffeurs had behaved—like a fool.

He heard her stir restlessly, with little flutterings and jinglings of her silly feminine finery. She sighed deeply.

“I don’t believe you’ve told me your right name,” she said, plaintively.

“James Ross,” he announced.

“James Ross!” she cried. “Oh, but you said—But he’s old!”

“Another James Ross,” he remarked, coldly but in his heart he was rather pleased with the sensation his words caused.

“Another one? Then—are you my cousin? Are you?”

“I believe so,” Ross replied.

She was silent for a moment; then she observed, thoughtfully:

“I guess I’ll call you Jimmy.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Ross. “I don’t like it.”

“I do!” said she. “I think Jimmy’s a darling name.” Suddenly she flung one arm about his neck. “And I think you’re a darling!” she added, with a sob.

“Look out!” Ross cried, sharply. “You mustn’t do that when I’m driving.” He cast a glance along the straight, empty road, and then turned to her. Her dark eyes were soft and shining with tears, but she was trying to smile.

“Oh, Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you’ve come!”

“All right!” said the 

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