She was roused from her dream by the sound of an automobile drawing up
at the door. A voice that she recognised called her name. She went
quickly down the steps.
'Is that you, Aunt Lora?'
Mrs. Porter, masterly woman, never wasted time in useless chatter.
'Jump in, my dear,' she said crisply. 'Your husband has stolen William
and eloped with that girl Mamie (whom I never trusted) to Connecticut.'
Steve had arrived at the Connecticut shack in the early dawn of the
day which had been so eventful to most of his friends and
acquaintances. William Bannister's interest in the drive, at first
acute, had ceased after the first five miles, and he had passed the
remainder of the journey in a sound sleep from which the stopping of
the car did not awaken him.
Steve jumped down and stretched himself. There was a wonderful
freshness in the air which made him forget for a moment his desire for
repose. He looked about him, breathing deep draughts of its coolness.
The robins which, though not so well advertised, rise just as
punctually as the lark, were beginning to sing as they made their
simple toilets before setting out to attend to the early worm. The sky
to the east was a delicate blend of pinks and greens and yellows, with
a hint of blue behind the grey which was still the prevailing note.
A vaguely sentimental mood came upon Steve. In his heart he knew
perfectly well that he could never be happy for any length of time out
of sight and hearing of Broadway cars; but at that moment, such was the
magic of the dawn, he felt a longing to settle down in the country and
pass the rest of his days a simple farmer with beard unchecked by
razor. He saw himself feeding the chickens and addressing the pigs by
their pet names, while Mamie, in a cotton frock, called cheerfully to
him to come in because breakfast was ready and getting cold.
Mamie! Ah!
His sigh turned into a yawn. He realized with the abruptness which
comes to a man who stands alone with nature in the small hours that he
was very sleepy. The excitement which had sustained him till now had
begun to ebb. The free life of the bearded farmer seemed suddenly less
attractive. Bed was what he wanted now, not nature.
He opened the door of the car and lifted William Bannister out, swathed
in rugs. The White Hope gurgled drowsily, but did not wake. Steve
carried him on to the porch and laid him down. Then he turned his
attention to the problem of effecting an entry.
Once an honest man has taken to amateur burgling he soon picks up the
tricks of it. To open his knife and shoot back the catch of the nearest
window was with Steve the work, if not of a moment, of a very few
minutes. He climbed in and unlocked the front door. Then he carried his
young charge into the sitting-room and laid him down on a chair, a step
nearer his ultimate destination, bed.
Steve's faculties were rapidly becoming numb with approaching sleep,
but he roused himself to face certain details of the country life which
till now had escaped him. His earnest concentration on the main plank
of his platform, the spiriting away of William Bannister, had caused
