Flinders

If Halsey had only taken me fully into his confidence, through the
whole affair, it would have been much simpler. If he had been
altogether frank about Jack Bailey, and if the day after the fire he
had told me what he suspected, there would have been no harrowing
period for all of us, with the boy in danger. But young people refuse
to profit by the experience of their elders, and sometimes the elders
are the ones to suffer.

I was much used up the day after the fire, and Gertrude insisted on my
going out. The machine was temporarily out of commission, and the
carriage horses had been sent to a farm for the summer. Gertrude
finally got a trap from the Casanova liveryman, and we went out. Just
as we turned from the drive into the road we passed a woman. She had
put down a small valise, and stood inspecting the house and grounds
minutely. I should hardly have noticed her, had it not been for the
fact that she had been horribly disfigured by smallpox.

"Ugh!" Gertrude said, when we had passed, "what a face! I shall dream
of it to-night. Get up, Flinders."

"Flinders?" I asked. "Is that the horse's name?"

"It is." She flicked the horse's stubby mane with the whip. "He
didn't look like a livery horse, and the liveryman said he had bought
him from the Armstrongs when they purchased a couple of motors and cut
down the stable. Nice Flinders--good old boy!"

Flinders was certainly not a common name for a horse, and yet the
youngster at Richfield had named his prancing, curly-haired little
horse Flinders! It set me to thinking.