ard and give his name?"

He now looked straight at Erik, who blushed to the edge of his hair,
but did not stir from the spot. From sheer embarrassment he clutched the
lieutenant's arm, and almost pinched it.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," the officer exclaimed, addressing the
auctioneer, as if he had suddenly been aroused from a fit of
abstraction; "I made the bid of one hundred dollars, or--or--at any
rate, I make it now."

The same performance, intended to force up the price, was repeated once
more, but with no avail, and at the end of two minutes Lady Clare was
knocked down to Lieutenant Thicker.

"Now I have gone and done it like the blooming idiot that I am,"
observed the lieutenant, when Lady Clare was led into his stable by a
liveried groom. "What an overhauling the captain will give me when he
gets home."

"You need have no fear," Erik replied. "I'll sound father as soon as
he gets home; and if he makes any trouble I'll pay you that one hundred
dollars, with interest, the day I come of age."

Well, the captain came home, and having long had the intention to
present his son with a saddle-horse, he allowed himself to be cajoled
into approving of the bargain. The mare was an exquisite creature,
if ever there was one, and he could well understand how Erik had been
carried away; Lieutenant Thicker, instead of being hauled over the
coals, as he had expected, received thanks for his kind and generous
conduct toward the son of his superior officer. As for Erik himself, he
had never had any idea that a boy's life could be so glorious as his was
now. Mounted on that splendid, coal-black mare, he rode through the city
and far out into the country at his father's side; and never did it
seem to him that he had loved his father so well as he did during
these afternoon rides. The captain was far from suspecting that in that
episode of the purchase of Lady Clare his own relation to his son had
been at stake. Not that Erik would not have obeyed his father, even if
he had turned out his rough side and taken the lieutenant to task for
his kindness; but their relation would in that case have lacked the warm
intimacy (which in nowise excludes obedience and respect) and that last
touch of devoted admiration which now bound them together.

That fine touch of sympathy in the captain's disposition which had
enabled him to smile indulgently at his son's enthusiasm for the horse
made the son doubly anxious not to abuse such kindness, a