CHAPTER XXI.
A HOPE OF CHANGE.
They were christening Marrion's new spider,
Robert and Cherokee.
"We will drive an hour or so longer, if you are not too tired."
"I am not at all tired; let us go on," she insisted.
"I will show you where Latham's fiancee lives," he carelessly proposed.
"When are they to be married?" she asked, scarcely above her breath.
"I don't know the date, but she will get one of the finest boys on earth. They will have this magnificent country home to spend their summers in, and that is such a blessing—the air out there is so pure and sweet and healthful. It is a great pity that everybody can't get an occasional taste of country life."
"I did not know we had come so far, but here we are in the woods—the real country. I can almost hear the frogs calling from slushy banks, and the faint, intermittent tinkle of cow-bells steal-
