Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1909-03-09

on the journey, because, as Ia ASKED
him, he would have done 1t II possible.
We went back part Of the way we
had come the night before, in the same
grand kind Of train, as far as Cleve-
land, which we reached In the morn
Ing quite early. We got out there, for
no fine trains like that stop at the
village near which Mr.. Brett's cous-
ins live, and he said the best thing
we could do would be to drive to the
farm In a motor car. 1t was about
forty miles away, but with good car,
which he could easily get. we wouldn't
be more than two hours, allowing for
bad roads. II we didn't take q motor.
we should have to wait half the MORN
ing for slow train, and then have a
drive at the end Of six or seven miles
in some kind Of country conveyance
When hesitated, thinking Of en-
pense. Mr.. Brett explained that among
his many other occupations he had once
acted as a chauffeur, therefore, know
ing the tricks of the trade and being a
sort Of professional himself. he could
always hire motor at nominal price
This settled my doubts. We drove in
cab to a hotel, where he left me with
yivace, while he went to search for a
ear. Presently he came back with a
smart gray thing which matched my
clothes, and not only was there a
gray chauffeur to 60 with 1t, but q
gray holland coat for me, and a gray
silk hood. with a lace curtain. do
think they do things well in America.
l looked forward to seeing the coun.
Try between Cleveland and Aristo,
which Is the name Of the town nearest
to the Valley farm, because except for
the drives l had had near Newport
knew nothing at all Of the real country
In America. I had an idea that we
should pass some fine country houses
and see q number Of pretty little
nesting villages.
The name of Aristo was rather i'm
pressive and classical sounding. l
thought. and I had visions Of meeting
on the way pretty girls driving or rid
lug. and good looking. well groomed
men such as l had met always in the
country round Newport. But as we
went on and on ] was disappointed.
The scenery itself was lovely. rich
and peaceful, with groves Of maple
trees which would have been quite
new to me II I hadn't seen few In
the east. But the villages were blots
rather than beauty spots, and we saw
on.y peasants and farm people.
Mr.. Brett was driving the car, with
me beside him, while the chauffeur sat
behind. and I made some such remark
to him before l stopped to remember
that his relatives were farm people. l
could have bitten my tongue then. but
he didn't seem to be offended.
"Outsidc the towns in the west there
are few Of what you would call gentle
folk" he said. with just the faintest
emphasis of good natured scOrn for
English prejudice; nor are there any
country houses as you understand the
name in England. Here people live In
the country to till the land and to live
by tilling 1t. yet they don't call them
selves PEASANTS either. 1t isn't that
they're snobbish and want to seem to
be what they are not, don't think that
for moment. But they-well. I won't
try to describe them. Many people
from the old world would never under
stand what they really are or their
point Of view. but you will. Lady
Betty. You are quick and sympathetic
and intelligent. and when l ask you
to define for me the difference between
the farmers Of Ohio. as typihed by my
cousins and their neighbOrs in Summer
county, l shall be surprised If you
don't exactly hit the nail on the head
They'll surprise you little at first l
warn you. and for about ten minutes
maybe you won't know what to make
of them. But count on you to see the
point In spite of all your traditions"
"What have my traditions got to do
with 1T" asked.
"Wait and see"
I laughed. "Well, l only wish !
knew what my traditions are" said l.
T suppose ought to know. but /
don't think do"
"You may feel them pricking up and
down your spine for bit. while you're
getting used to new order Of things
at the Valley farm" answered Mr..
Brett. "And yet don't know. shall
be enormously interested In watching
the effect upon you before I-hve to
say goodby."
l forgot everything else he had been
saying when I heard that last SEN
tence.
"Wlll you have to say goodby soon"
I asked him in a crestfallen voice.
He didn't speak for minute. per-
haps on account of a series Of bumps
In the road.
At last he said, ITO tell you the
truth. Lady Eetty, I should like to
stop and pay my cousins little visit,
butt don't know II have right
to-"
"Oh, why not| l asked. Wouldn't
they be delighted to keep you%
perhaps. hope SO. But what
about your"
"If it depended one bit on me, you'd
make long visit"
"Wouldn't you really mind seeing me
hanging around-sometimes? Just at
meals, you know-or to take you a
drive once In awhile?"
| hooked at him merrily through my
ale window. for felt happy and light
hearted. and the world seemed such q
very nice place to live in at that mo-
ment.
"Do you truly need to have me an
swer that question:" asked. III you
do, we can't be real friends as
thought, after all"
"You say that because you are kind
too kind to have reflected enough
perhaps. An accident-the happiest
accident in the world for me-has
given me q chance to see something
of you, Lady Betty, but do you un'
derstand that only by an accident
could rough fellow like me have any
place at all In your life, no matter
how small or temporary? don't want
to take advantage of that sweet kind.
ness Of yours. which is partly ell your