He liked Lucy for
a good many things--one was her independence, another
was her determination to have her own way.
Then, again, she was never so pretty as when she was
a trifle angry; her color came and went so deliciously
and her eyes snapped so charmingly. Lucy
saw the shrug and caught the satisfied look in his
face. She didn't want to offend him and yet she
didn't intend that he should go without a parting
word from her--tender or otherwise, as circumstances
might require. She knew she had not found the
button, and in her doubt determined for the present
to abandon the search.
"No, Bones, I've changed my mind," she called
to the boy, who was now half way down the piazza.
"I don't think I will go. I'll stop here, Max, and
do just what you want me to do," she added in a
softened voice. "Come along," and she slipped her
hand in his and the two walked toward the door of
his apartments.
When the light wagon and satin-skinned sorrel,
with John on the seat and Bones in full view, stopped
at the sanded porch, Mrs. Coates and Lucy formed
part of the admiring group gathered about the turn-
out. All of Mr. Feilding's equipages brought a
crowd of onlookers, no matter how often they appeared
--he had five with him at Beach Haven, including
the four-in-hand which he seldom used--
but the grays and the light wagon, by common consent,
were considered the most "stylish" of them
all, not excepting the drag.
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