Hepburn offered to stay in the carriage and mind the horses, and I accepted his offer, although I knew that Ethel thought it making a very free use of a millionaire. Not that Ethel is snobbish, but she has never used millionaires much.
The train came in and this time I took up my place by the ordinary cars, and soon saw the quartette moving along the aisle.
Tom looked out of the window and saw Hepburn sitting erect in the front seat of the picnic wagon holding the unmistakably farm horses, and he exploded into laughter that we outside plainly heard.
“Hello,” said he as soon as he emerged. “Broken him in already. Well, here we are. Better late than never. You know the Benedicts?”
“What a question,” said Ethel, kissing in turn Madge and Mrs. Benedict.
“But we didn’t know Mr. Hepburn,” said she saucily.
“Oh, well, he’s harmless and I’ll bet he came out of it all right. Hello, Crœsus. Stole a march on us, eh?”
“Crœsus” raised his derby, but good driver that he was, kept his eyes on the horses.