re having glorious weather," she said. "I suppose you are going to
the Derby?"

"Never miss if I can help," he replied. "What's going to win, Miss
Berkeley?"

"Merry Monarch," she answered promptly.

"No!" exclaimed Abel. "Who told you?"

"That's a secret," she said laughing.

"He's at a good price."

"A hundred to eight."

"I'll risk a trifle on him," said Abel.

"Don't back him because I've told you," she said; "he may lose."

"He belongs to Baron Childs; he's a straight 'un."

"He's as straight as they make them," said Eve. "How's Richard? Have
you heard from him?"

"Not lately, thank you for asking. I wish he'd not joined the army;
he'd have done better to stay here and help me," said Abel.

"Why did he join?" she asked.

"Got restless, I suppose and----" he hesitated.

"And what else?"

"He was very fond of Jane Thrush," said Abel.

"And Jane did not give him much encouragement?"

"That's about the strength of it," said Abel.

"Jane is devoted to her father," said Eve.

"No doubt about that, but she'll wed someday, and Dick's not a bad
sort," said Abel.

"He'll make a good soldier, Abel."

"Perhaps he will; he'll be a fighter, and it looks to me as though
there'll be a burst up before long."

"You think so?"

"Certain sure I do; there'll be no peace anywhere until the Germans are
licked."

Eve laughed.

"I understood we were better friends than ever with Germany," she
replied.

"Some folks will tell you that, but don't you believe them, Miss
Berkeley. They're a nasty spying lot, I'd trust none of 'em," said
Abel.

"I hope you are wrong, war is a terrible thing," she said.

"So it is in a way, but we've been asleep too long, it won't do us any
harm to be roused up," said Abel. "There's a man staying at my place I
have my doubts about," he said mysteriously.

"What sort of doubts?" she asked.

"He goes by the name of Carl Meason, but he's a German, I'm sure of it,
and he's a spy," said Abel.

She looked surprised as she said:

"What would a German spy find to do in Little Trent?"

"That's more than I can tell; probably he's spying out the land."

She laughed.

"What sort of a man is he?" she asked.

"Not a bad-looking chap, talks well, but there's something suspicious
about him.

"Does he speak with a foreign accent?"

"No; speaks English as well as I do," said Abel.

Eve smiled: Abel's English was at times a trifle weird.

"Then I'm sure he's not a Ger