expression of that habit of duty which he had formed. He climbed into his buggy and started for the cottage out beyond the "Indian Village," into that district which had so long been negligible, but now all at once began to be within speaking distance of the homes of the ultra well-to-do.
Once in a while, as they bowled along, the foolish horse looked askance or shied a little at a "devil-wagon" as people still called the gasoline-propelled vehicles now fairly common in the streets of Detroit, though there were yet plenty of superior people who had not so far deigned to ride in one. But as George himself bent his glance upon the devil-wagon it was with an admiring eye—an eye that looked almost as if it knew something that it wouldn't tell.
"Dad," the young man hailed, when he surprised his parents by arriving at home at this unusual time of day. "I'm going to build you and mother a new house and furnish it; and besides, mother's done her last lick of work except waiting on you. I'm going to hire a girl to do the cooking and the housework."
Malachi Judson was impressedly silent as he heard this announcement, contemplating his son with respectful, almost reverential eye.
But his mother was more vocative. "Oh, George!" she exclaimed with a gesture and a tone that were almost of protest. "Are you sure you can afford it?"
