“I’ll give you a dollar if you take my wife and me back to Altonville.”
Stranleigh smiled.
“I’ll go, my chief; I’m ready,” he murmured. “It is not for your silver bright, but for your winsome lady.”
“My wife has sprained her ankle, and cannot walk,” explained the young man.
“I am sorry to hear that,” replied Lord Stranleigh. “Get in, and we will go back to her in a jiffy.”
The young man sprang into the car, which the amateur chauffeur turned very deftly, and in a few moments they drew up close to the grassy bank where the girl was sitting. The young husband very tenderly lifted her to the back seat, and the polite chauffeur, after again expressing his regret at the accident, drove the car swiftly to Altonville, stopping at the office of the only doctor.
The young man rang the bell, and before the door was opened, he had carried the girl up the steps. Presently he returned, and found Stranleigh still sitting in the chauffeur’s seat, meditatively contemplating the trafficless street. His late passenger thrust hand in pocket, and drew forth a silver dollar.
“I am ever so much obliged,” he said, “and am sorry to have detained you so long.”
“The detention was nothing. To be of assistance, however slight, is a pleasure, marred only by the fact of the lady’s misadventure. I hope to hear that her injury is not serious, and then I shall be well repaid.”
“You will not be repaid,” returned the young man, with a slight frown on his brow, “until you have accepted this dollar.”