| RIDING HOME IN THE BAROUCHE. |
"Why is he carrying away that kite?" said Deacon Graham, asking the question in a general way, as if he expected the crowd to answer it in concert. "That belongs to the church."
"Sic nodus—not so," said Isaac Holman. "It belongs to him; he made it."
"Ah, ha!" said the Deacon; "I smell a mice, I s-m-e-l-l a mice!"
As the driver had recently procured his new and handsome barouche, and was anxious to exhibit it, he drove rather slowly and took a somewhat circuitous route. All the way along, people were attracted to their windows. As the carriage was passing through West street, Phaeton colored a little when he saw three ladies standing on an upper balcony, and lifted his hat with some trepidation when the youngest of them bowed. The next moment she threw a bouquet, which landed in the carriage and was picked up and appropriated by Ned.
"I am inclined to think," said Phaeton, "that bouquet was intended for me."
"Was it?" said Ned. "Then take it, of course. I could buy one just like it for a quarter, if I cared for flowers. But, by the way, Fay, what are you going to do with the twenty dollars you've won? That's considerable money."
"I am going to put it to the best possible use for money," said Phaeton.
"I didn't know there was any one use better than all others," said Ned. "What is it?"