't look as if they really
enjoyed it."

"Fiddlesticks!" Barrow smilingly retorted. "Everybody enjoys luxury."

"Well, one should," Hazel admitted. But she still held to the
impression that the couple passing got no such pleasure out of their
material possessions as Jack seemed to think. It was merely an
intuitive divination. She could not have found any basis from which to
argue the point. But she was very sure that she would not have changed
places with the woman in the carriage, and her hand stole out and gave
his a shy little squeeze.

"Look," she murmured; "here's another of the plutocrats. One of my
esteemed employers, if you please. You'll notice that he's walking and
looking at things just like us ordinary, everyday mortals."

Barrow glanced past her, and saw a rather tall, middle-aged man, his
hair tinged with gray, a fine-looking man, dressed with exceeding
nicety, even to a flower in his coat lapel, walking slowly along the
path that bordered the pond. He stopped a few yards beyond them, and
stood idly glancing over the smooth stretch of water, his gloved hands
resting on the knob of a silver-mounted cane.

Presently his gaze wandered to them, and the cool, well-bred stare
gradually gave way to a slightly puzzled expression. He moved a step
or two and seated himself on a bench. Miss Weir became aware that he
was looking at her most of the time as she sat casting the bits of
bread to the swans and ducks. It made her self-conscious. She did not
know why she should be of any particular interest.

"Let's walk around a little," she suggested. The last of the crumbs
were gone.

"All right," Barrow assented. "Let's go up the ravine."

They left the log. Their course up the ravine took them directly past
the gentleman on the bench. And when they came abreast of him, he rose
and lifted his hat at the very slight inclination of Miss Weir's head.

"How do you do, Miss Weir?" said he. "Quite a pleasant afternoon."

To the best of Hazel's knowledge, Mr. Andrew Bush was little given to
friendly recognition of his employees, particularly in public. But he
seemed inclined to be talkative; and, as she caught a slightly
inquiring glance at her escort, she made the necessary introduction.
So for a minute or two the three of them stood there exchanging polite
banalities. Then Mr. Bush bowed and passed on.

"He's one of the biggest guns in Granville, they say," Jack observed.
"I wouldn't mind having