he looked about her upon a horizon very ample and quite
strange, without being able to trace the rapid steps that had carried
her away from the close-walled room full of knickknacks and trifles,
where she usually lived. She drew a deep breath of surprise and changed
her answer to an honest "I don't believe I know whether I believe you or
not. I don't think I ever thought of it before."

"What _do_ you think about?" The question was evidently too sincere an
interrogation to resent.

The girl made several beginnings at an answer, stopped, looked out of
the window, looked down at her shoe-tip, and finally burst into her
little clear trill of amusement. "I don't," she said, looking full at
Rankin, her eyes shining. "You've caught me! I can't remember a single
time in my day when I think about anything but hurrying to get dressed
in time to be at the next party promptly. Maybe some folks can think
when they're hurrying to get dressed, but I can't."

Rankin was very little moved to hilarity by this statement, but he was
too young to resist the contagion of Lydia's mirth, and laughed back at
her, wondering at the mobility of her ever-changing face.

"If you don't think, what do you _do_?" he interrogated with mock
relentlessness.

"Nothing," said Lydia recklessly, still laughing.

"What do you feel?" he went on in the same tone, but Lydia's face
changed quickly.

"Oh--lots!" she said uncertainly, and was silent.

The car began to pass some poor, small houses, and in a moment came to
a standstill in the midst of a straggling village. The young conductor
still slept on, his head fallen so far on his shoulder that his
breathing was difficult. The motorman, getting no signal to go on,
looked back through the window, putting his face close to the glass to
see, for it had grown dusky outside and the electric lights were not yet
turned on. After a look at the sleeping man he glanced apprehensively at
the two passengers, and then, apparently reassured that they were not
"company detectives," he pushed open the door. "This is Wardsboro'," he
told them as he went down the aisle, "and the next stop is Hardville."

He was a strong, burly man, and easily lifted the slight, boyish form of
the conductor to a more comfortable position, propping him up in a
corner of the seat. The young man did not waken, but his face relaxed
into peaceful lines of unconsciousness as his head fell back, and his
breathing became long and regular, like