Martin he won't
harness, because he hasn't been paid. He just sits on a chair in the
door and whittles a stick, and don't say anything, and he won't
harness."

"We have simply got to have an automobile," said Mrs. Carroll.

"How do you know it is because he hasn't been paid, Eddy?" asked Anna.

"Because he said so; before he wouldn't say anything, and began
whittling. Papa stands there talking to him, but it don't make any
difference."

"With an automobile it wouldn't make any difference," said Mrs.
Carroll. "An automobile doesn't have to be harnessed. I don't see why
Arthur doesn't get one."

Anna Carroll sat down on the nearest chair and laughed hysterically.

Mrs. Carroll stared at her. "What are you laughing at, Anna?" said
she, with a little tone of injury. "I don't see anything very funny.
It is a lovely day, and I wanted to go to drive, and it would do you
good. I don't see why people act so because they are not paid. I
didn't think it of Martin."

"I'll go out and see if he has stirred yet," cried Eddy, and was off,
with a countenance expressive of the keenest enjoyment of the
situation.

Out in the stable, beside the great door through which was a view of
the early autumn landscape--a cluster of golden trailing elms, with
one rosy maple on a green lawn intersected by the broad sweep of
drive--sat the man in a chair, and whittled with a face as
imperturbable as fate. Carroll stood beside him, talking in a low
tone. He was quite pale. Suddenly, just as the boy arrived, the man
spoke.

"Why in thunder, sir," said he, with a certain respect in spite of
the insolence of the words--"why in thunder don't you haul in, shut
up shop, sell out, pay your debts, and go it small?"

"Perhaps I will," Carroll replied, in a tone of rage. His face
flushed, he raised his right arm as if with an impulse to strike the
other man, then he let it drop.

"Sell the horses, papa?" cried Eddy, at his elbow, with a tone of
dismay.

Carroll turned and saw the boy. "Go into the house; this is nothing
that concerns you," he said, sternly.

"Are the horses paid for, papa?" asked Eddy.

"I believe they ain't," said the man in the chair, with a curious
ruminating impudence. Carroll towered over him with an expression of
ignoble majesty. But Eddy had made a dart into a stall, and the tramp
of iron hoofs was suddenly heard.

"I can harness as well as he can," a small voice cried.

Then Martin rose. "I'll harness," he said,