alongside the road was very high.

_CHAPTER II_

_Maria Port._

Olive stood impatiently at the door of the little tollhouse. In one hand
she held three copper cents, because she felt almost sure that the
person approaching would give her a dime or two five-cent pieces.

"I never knew horses to travel so slowly as they do on this pike!" she
said to herself. "How they used to gallop on those beautiful roads in
France!"

In due course of time the vehicle approached near enough to the
toll-gate for Olive to take an observation of its occupant. This was a
middle-aged woman, dressed in black, holding a black fan. She wore a
black bonnet with a little bit of red in it. Her face was small and
pale, its texture and color suggesting a boiled apple dumpling. She had
small eyes of which it can be said that they were of a different color
from her face, and were therefore noticeable. Her lips were not
prominent, and were closely pressed together as if some one had begun to
cut a dumpling, but had stopped after making one incision.

This somewhat somber person leaned forward in the seat behind her young
driver, and steadily stared at Olive. When the horse had passed the
toll-bar the boy stopped it so that his passenger and Olive were face
to face and very near each other.

"Seven cents, please," said Olive.

The cleft in the dumpling enlarged itself, and the woman spoke. "Bless
my soul," she said, "are you Captain Asher's niece?"

"I am," said Olive in surprise.

"Well, well," said the other, "that just beats me! When I heard he had
his niece with him I thought she was a plain girl, with short frocks and
her hair plaited down her back."

Olive did not like this woman. It is wonderful how quickly likes and
dislikes may be generated.

"But you see I am not," she replied. "Seven cents, please."

"Don't you suppose I know what the toll is?" said the woman in the
carriage. "I'm sure I've traveled over this road often enough to know
that. But what I'm thinkin' about is the difference between what I
thought the captain's niece was and what she really is."

"It does not make any difference what the difference is," said Olive,
speaking quickly and with perhaps a little sharpness in her voice, "all
I want is for you to pay me the toll."

"I'm not goin' to pay any toll," said the other.

Olive's face flushed. "Little boy," she exclaimed, "back that horse!" As
the youngster obeyed her peremptory request Olive gave a q