drove away. She had come there that
afternoon on the pretense of consulting the captain about her father's
health, which she said disturbed her, and she had requested the
privilege of sitting on the toll-gate piazza because she had always
wanted to sit there, and had never been invited. The captain had not
invited her then, but as she had boldly marched to the piazza and taken
a seat, he had been obliged to follow.

Captain Asher, wearing a good coat and hat, relieved old Jane at her
post, and waited and waited for Olive to come back. He did not for a
moment think she might return by the shunpike, for that was a rough
road, not fit for a bicycle. And if she passed this way once, why should
she object to doing it again?

When more than time enough had elapsed for her return from the town, he
started forth with a heavy heart to follow her. He told old Jane that if
for any reason he should be detained in town until late, he would take
supper with Mr. Port, and if, although he did not expect this, he should
not come back that night, the Ports would know of his whereabouts. He
did not take his horse and buggy because he thought it would be in his
way. If he met Olive in the road he could more easily stop and talk to
her if he were walking than if he had a horse to take care of.

"I hope you're not runnin' after Miss Olive," said old Jane.

The captain did not wish his old servant to imagine that it was
necessary for him to run after his niece, and so he answered rather
quickly: "Of course not." Then he set off toward the town. He did not
walk very fast, for if he met Olive he would rather have a talk with her
on the road than in Glenford.

He walked on and on, not with his eyes on the smooth surface of the
pike, but looking out afar, hoping that he might soon see the figure of
a girl on a bicycle; and thus it was that he passed the entrance to the
shunpike without noticing that a bicycle track turned into it.

Olive struggled on, and the road did not improve. She worked hard with
her body, but still harder with her mind. It seemed to her as though
everything were endeavoring to crush her, and that it was almost
succeeding. If she had been in her own room, seated, or walking the
floor, indignation against her uncle would have given her the same
unnatural vigor and energy which had possessed her when she read her
father's letter; but it is impossible to be angry when one is physically
tired and depressed, and this was O