"You're too pessimistic!" laughed Stephanie.
"My dear, you haven't a father who is an officer in the Tuscarora Trust Company—and you haven't seen the men who visit him. It's a sad commentary on what we are coming to—and the elevation of the parvenu. Let's change the subject. I'm becoming excited; the next thing I'll ditch the car, or run into a telegraph pole."
"Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Stephanie.
A little later, as they spun down the macadam near the Criss-Cross gates, they passed a station-wagon drawn by a spanking pair of bays.
The man in it took off his hat and bowed.
"There is Porshinger now!" said Stephanie.
Gladys nodded. "He has come out to spend the night at the Woodsides', I reckon—it's their conveyance."