istence outside of the walls of the mill made her heart beat with pure
pity. For she could understand it.

One of the many, and often humorous, incidents that served to bring about
this realization of a former aimlessness happened on their second Sunday
excursion. This time he had not chosen the Kingsbury Tavern, but another
automobilists' haunt, an enlightening indication of established habits
involving a wide choice of resorts. While he was paying for luncheon and
chatting with the proprietor, Ditmar snatched from the change he had
flung down on the counter a five dollar gold coin.

"Now how in thunder did that get into my right-hand pocket? I always keep
it in my vest," he exclaimed; and the matter continued to disturb him
after they were in the automobile. "It's my lucky piece. I guess I was so
excited at the prospect of seeing you when I dressed this morning I put
it into my change. Just see what you do to me!"

"Does it bring you luck?" she inquired smilingly.

"How about you! I call you the biggest piece of luck I ever had."

"You'd better not be too sure," she warned him.

"Oh, I'm not worrying. I has that piece in my pocket the day I went down
to see old Stephen Chippering, when he made me agent, and I've kept it
ever since. And I'll tell you a funny thing--it's enough to make any man
believe in luck. Do you remember that day last summer I was tinkering
with the car by the canal and you came along?"

"The day you pretended to be tinkering," she corrected him.

He laughed. "So you were on to me?" he said. "You're a foxy one!"

"Anyone could see you were only pretending. It made me angry, when I
thought of it afterwards."

"I just had to do it--I wanted to talk to you. But listen to what I'm
going to tell you! It's a miracle, all right,--happening just at that
time--that very morning. I was coming back to Boston from New York on the
midnight, and when the train ran into Back Bay and I was putting on my
trousers the piece rolled out among the bed clothes. I didn't know I'd
lost it until I sat down in the Parker House to eat my breakfast, and I
suddenly felt in my pocket. It made me sick to think it was gone. Well, I
started to telephone the Pullman office, and then I made up my mind I'd
take a taxi and go down to the South Station myself, and just as I got
out of the cab there was the nigger porter, all dressed up in his glad
rags, coming out of the station! I knew him, I'd been on his car lots of
times.