Fannie saw that the arrangements were unanswerably suitable; also, that to carry them out she must take a drive with the unknown, a drive of necessity to be sure, yet one that she could safely call romantic, especially as, when he turned to help her into the runabout, he picked up a horseshoe that lay in the bottom and gave it to her, saying, “It’s yours; I found it half a mile back; I never pass a horseshoe, never can tell when it’ll bring luck.”

Before they had gone very far her dream of his being a guest on his way to the Bluffs was shattered by his saying:  “I’ve got the advantage of you—­know your name, you don’t know mine.  That’s not fair.  ’Aim to be fair’ ’s my motto, even if I don’t chance to hit it,” and he pulled out a bulky wallet and held it toward her with one hand, that she might help herself to one of the cards with which it was filled.

Her hand touched his; she blushed so that her freckles were veiled for the moment as she read, half aloud:  “L.  Middleton—­with Frank Brothers.  Dealers in first-class canned goods,” the New York address being in the corner.  The feeling of disappointment only lasted for a moment, for was not a travelling man, as the drummer is always called in country towns, a person of experience and knowledge of the world, as well as being not infrequently shrouded in mystery?  As she pondered on the card, wondering if she dared put it in her pocket, he said in a matter-of-fact way, again extending the wallet:  “Don’t hesitate, take the deck, may come handy, father like to keep goods in stock some time.  That’s my regular; carry a side line too, perfumes and an A1 hair restorer.  Got all my samples at Oaklands depot.  You mind stopping there on the way?  Want to get fresh collar.”

No, of course Fannie would not mind; this last request fixed her companion firmly in her esteem.  Any other man of her acquaintance would have removed his collar and proceeded without one, never giving the matter a thought; in fact, she had been momentarily expecting that this would happen.  Now she would have the bliss of taking him home in all the perfection of his toilet as she first beheld him.

From that moment she grew more conversational, and his utterance became less jerky, until, when they finally drove up back of the long red brick railway station at Oaklands, a little before noon, she had not only given him a synopsis of local history, but was, in her excitement, vainly trying to recollect what day of the week it was, so that she might judge of the dinner probabilities at home, also if it would be safe to ask him to stay.  Fortunately remembering that she saw her father beheading chickens the night before, which guaranteed a substantial meal, she decided it was an absolute duty.

As L. Middleton emerged from the baggage room in a fresh collar, even higher than the other, he threw an ornamental bottle of violet water into Fannie’s lap to keep company with the horseshoe.  Immediately Hope arose at the combination, and Settled under the left folds of Fannie’s pink shirt waist; for Middleton seems a distinguished name to one who has been called Penney for twenty-eight years, and romance had never died in the heart under the pink waist for the reason that it was only at this moment being born.