She drove her three miles at a pretty steady trot, and at the end of the third,—at the very gates of the Haviland Park, in fact,—fortune came to her rescue. A good-humored middle-aged gentleman on a brown horse came cantering down the avenue and, passing through the gates, approached her. Seeing her, he raised his hat courteously; seeing him, she stopped her pony, for she recognized Mr. Haviland.
She bent forward a little eagerly, feeling the color rise to her face.
It was somewhat trying to find herself obliged by conscience to stop a gentleman on the highway and ask a favor of him.
"Mr. Haviland," she said. "If you have a moment to spare"
He drew rein by her phaeton, removing his hat again. He had heard a great deal of Miss Barholm from his acquaintance among the county families. He had heard her spoken of as a rather singular young lady who had the appearance of a child, and the views of a feminine reconstructor of society. He had heard of her little phaeton too, and her gray pony, and so, though he had never seen her before, he recognized her at once.
"Miss Barholm?" he said with deference.
"Yes," answered Anice. "And indeed I am glad to have been fortunate enough to meet you here. Papa is away from home, and I could not wait for his return, because I was afraid I should be too late. I wanted to speak to you about the lodge-keeper's place, Mr. Haviland."
He had been rather of the opinion that Miss Barholm must be a terrible young woman, with a tendency to model cottages and night schools.
Young ladies who go out of the ordinary groove are
