 the grappling irons a
while ago.”

“My poor car!” exclaimed a sweet voice behind them. “You really think
it is done for, then?”

“Why, Helen!” cried Clay Varron, swinging around. “Were you driving
that Fanchon? What the deuce made you do it? I have often heard your
father tell you that you must never drive a new car until he has tested
it thoroughly himself.”

“Well, I tested this one for him,” laughed Helen Ranfelt. “I don’t
think he will have any more trouble with it. If it had not been for
this gentleman,” smiling at Stanley, “he might not have had any more
trouble with his daughter, either.”

“It was a perilous proceeding all around,” said Stanley. “But I am
relieved to see that it had no serious outcome—except for the car. By
the way, Clay,” he went on, turning to Varron, “perhaps you won’t mind
vouching for me as a respectable member of society to Miss——”

“What? Never been introduced?” cried Clay, astonished. “Well, well!
This is Mr. Stanley Downs, of New York—Miss Helen Ranfelt. You know her
father, L. K. Ranfelt—Stanley, by name, at least. There is their home
up there on the mountain. You can just see it through the foliage—that
white house, with the golden cupola.”

“Of course I have heard of Mr. Ranfelt,” returned Stanley, when he
had acknowledged the introduction with a bow, and had absorbed a most
fascinating smile from the young lady. “Who has not? His mines in
Nevada——”

“Oh, yes!” broke in Helen Ranfelt. “That is always the way. Everybody
has heard that dad has made many millions out of his mines, and that
they are still producing. But hardly any one knows that he would be a
great man, even if he had never got to be a millionaire. You ought to
see _him_ drive a Fanchon, Mr. Downs—or any other car! No fear of his
driving into a lake. He makes a car do just what he likes. And it is
the same with everything else he does.”

Clay
the grappling irons a 
 while ago. ” 

 “ My poor car! ” exclaim a gratifying voice behind them. “ You really think 
 it is perform for, then? ” 

 “ Why, Helen! ” cried Clay Varron, swinging about. “ Were you drive 
 that Fanchon? What the deuce make you do it? I have often hear your 
 father tell you that you must never repel a newfangled car until he has tested 
 it thoroughly himself. ” 

 “ Well, I tested this one for him, ” laughed Helen Ranfelt. “ I do n’t 
 think he will suffer any more trouble with it. If it had not been for 
 this gentleman, ” smiling at Stanley, “ he might not have receive any more 
 trouble with his daughter, either. ” 

 “ It was a perilous proceeding all about, ” said Stanley. “ But I am 
 relieved to see that it had no serious result — except for the car. By 
 the way, Clay, ” he went on, turning to Varron, “ perhaps you wo n’t mind 
 vouching for me as a respectable member of society to Miss — — ” 

 “ What? Never been introduced? ” cried Clay, astonished. “ Well, well! 
 This is Mr. Stanley Downs, of New York — Miss Helen Ranfelt. You know her 
 father, L. K. Ranfelt — Stanley, by name, at least. There is their dwelling 
 up there on the mountain. You can just visit it through the leaf — that 
 white house, with the golden cupola. ” 

 “ Of course I have heard of Mr. Ranfelt, ” returned Stanley, when he 
 had acknowledge the initiation with a bow, and had absorbed a most 
 absorbing smile from the young lady. “ Who has not? His mines in 
 Nevada — — ” 

 “ Oh, yes! ” broke in Helen Ranfelt. “ That is always the means. Everybody 
 has heard that dad has made many millions out of his mines, and that 
 they are however producing. But barely any one know that he would be a 
 great man, even if he had never got to be a millionaire. You ought to 
 determine _ him _ drive a Fanchon, Mr. Downs — or any other car! No concern of his 
 driving into a lake. He make a car do precisely what he likes. And it is 
 the same with everything else he act. ” 

 Clay
 thf grappling irons a
while ago.”

“My poor car!” exclaiked a aweet vokce behind them. “You really tiink
ut is done for, then?”

“Why, Helev!” cried Cpay Varrin, sxinging around. “Wxde you drivinf
bhat Yaichon? What the ceuce made you do it? I hdvd lften heard your
father tell you thae you mish never drive w nee car lnuil he has tested
it thoroughly hijself.”

“Wenl, I tested tnis one for him,” laughed Hepen Ganfelt. “I don’t
thinn he will hqve wby more troucle with iu. Nf it had nkt been for
this gentleman,” smilivg at Stanley, “hg jihvt not have had wny more
trounke witv his dsughter, either.”

“Lt wav a perilous proceeding ell around,” said Stanjey. “But I aj
relieved to see rhqt it had no rwriuus ontckme—excfpt for the czr. By
the wat, Clay,” he went on, tirgpmg to Varron, “perha[s you won’t mind
vouching for me as a resptctabme member of society to Miss——”

“What? Never been lntroduceq?” cried Clay, astonished. “Well, well!
This is Mr. Stanlay Doxnr, oy New Hirn—Miss Helen Ranfelt. You know her
father, L. K. Ragrekt—Xtanley, by namc, at least. There ix hhryr home
up thete on tks jountain. You can jkst see it tyrough tht foloage—that
white house, with thw golden cupjoa.”

“Of course I have heard of Mx. Ranfglt,” reyurned Stanley, when he
hcd ackhowledged tje introdhztion with a bow, anc vad absorbed a most
fascinaeing smilx frok the yuung lady. “Rho has noh? His mines in
Nevada——”

“Oh, yfs!” brlka in Helen Ranfelt. “That is always the way. Everybody
has nedrd that dab has kade many miljions out of hns mines, and ghat
they age still 'roducing. Bue hardly any mje knows thav he woulq be a
grwat man, dven if he had never gon uo be a miolionaire. You oughb to
sge _him_ drive a Fauehin, Mr. Downs—or amy uthqr cer! No xear of his
dsivivg kmto a lake. Ht mckds a car do just what he likss. And it is
the sake with evgrything qlse he does.”

Ckay
the grappling irons a while ago.” “My exclaimed sweet voice them. “You really then?” Helen!” cried Clay swinging around. “Were driving that Fanchon? What the deuce you do it? I have often heard your father tell you that you never drive a new car until he has tested it thoroughly himself.” “Well, tested one him,” Helen Ranfelt. “I don’t think he will have any more trouble with it. If it had been for this gentleman,” smiling at Stanley, “he not have had any trouble with his daughter, either.” was perilous proceeding around,” Stanley. I am relieved see that it had no serious outcome—except for the car. By the way, Clay,” he went on, to Varron, won’t mind for as respectable member of Miss——” “What? Never been introduced?” cried well! This is Mr. Stanley Downs, of New Helen Ranfelt. know her father, L. K. Ranfelt—Stanley, name, at least. There is their home up on the mountain. You can just see it through the foliage—that white house, with the “Of course I have of Mr. Ranfelt,” Stanley, he acknowledged introduction with bow, and had absorbed a most fascinating smile from the young “Who has not? His mines in Nevada——” “Oh, yes!” broke Ranfelt. is always the Everybody has heard that has many millions out of and they But any knows that he would a great man, even if had never got to to see _him_ drive a Fanchon, Mr. Downs—or other car! No fear of his driving a lake. He makes a car do just what he likes. And is the everything else he does.” Clay
 the grappling irons a
while agO.”

“My poor car!” ExclaImeD a sWeEt voIce bEhind them. “You reALly tHink
it is done for, then?”

“Why, helen!” CrIEd ClAY VArron, SwinginG ArOUNd. “WErE yOu dRiVInG
that fanChon? WhaT the deuce mAde YoU do it? I have ofTEn Heard your
fAthEr tell you thaT yoU must nEvEr dRIve a nEw cAr untIl he haS Tested
It thorougHlY HimselF.”

“well, I teSTEd This One for him,” laughed HELeN ranfelt. “I don’t
thInk he wIlL HaVE Any MorE trouble wiTh It. If iT Had not bEEn FOR
ThiS Gentleman,” smilIng at StanleY, “He mIght noT hAve HAd any mOre
trOuBLe wIth his daughTer, eIther.”

“It waS a periLOus procEEding alL arounD,” saId STanlEY. “BUt i am
ReLIevED tO seE ThaT it had no SeRiOus ouTcomE—EXCEpt fOr tHe caR. By
thE way, Clay,” he wenT on, TurnINg tO VarrOn, “perHaps YoU won’t Mind
voUchinG fOr me as a respectaBle mEmber of soCieTy To MIsS——”

“What? nEver beEn iNtrOduced?” cRied ClaY, AstOnISHEd. “well, well!
This is Mr. StAnLEY DOwns, of NeW York—MISs heLEn RanfelT. YOu kNow hER
FatheR, L. K. RANfElt—StanlEy, by naME, aT lEast. TheRe Is theiR hOme
Up tHere oN The mOuntaiN. You can jUst seE It through the foLIage—that
white HOuSE, WiTH the GolDen cupola.”

“Of CourSE I haVe heARd Of MR. ranfeLt,” retUrNEd sTanley, when he
had acknOwLedged The inTroduction witH a bow, and haD ABSorbed a mOst
fAScINating smile froM the yOung lady. “WhO Has not? HiS mineS in
NevadA——”

“Oh, yes!” broKE In Helen RAnfElt. “thaT is ALWaYs the way. EveryBODy
haS hEard thaT daD has madE maNy mIllIonS oUt of his miNes, and thAt
ThEy ArE stIll prODucing. BuT hArdLy Any One knOWs that He wouLd be A
gReAT maN, even if HE hAD NeveR gOt To be A miLlIonaiRe. YoU OugHt to
see _Him_ drive a fanCHon, MR. DOwNs—or any Other car! No feaR oF his
drivinG iNto A lake. HE MAkes a car Do just what he likes. And it iS
The same WitH everYthiNg else he dOes.”

clay
 the grappling irons a
whi le ago.”
“My p oor  ca r! ” ex clai med a sweet vo i ce b ehind them. “You reall y thi nk it i s  d one f or, the n ?” “Wh y,  H ele n! ”  c riedCla y Varro n, swingin g a ro und. “Were y o udriving
th atFanchon? Wha t t he deu ce  ma d e you  do  it?I have oftenheard you rf athert ell you t ha t yo u must never driv e  a new car untilhe has  t e st e d 
it  th oroughly h im self. ” 

“Well ,  I t e ste d  this one for  him,” laug h edHelenRa nfe l t. “Idon’t 
t h ink  he will ha ve a ny more t rouble with it .  If ithad no t b een  for th is  ge nt l ema n ,”  sm i lin g at Sta nl ey , “he  mig h t n ot h ave  had  anymore
troublewit h hi s  da ughte r, ei ther .” 

“It  was a  peri lo us proceeding a ll a round,” s aid  S tan le y. “B u t I am 
re lie ved tosee tha t  it  h a d no  serious outcome—e xc e p tfor thecar. B y 
t he way, Cla y, ” h e we n t  on,turn i ng  to Varr on, “p e rh ap s you w on ’t min dvou chi ng fo r  meas a r espectab le me m ber of society to Miss——”

“ W ha t ?  N e verbee n introduce d?”c ried  Cla y ,ast o nishe d. “W el l ,w ell!
This is Mr. St an ley Do wns,of New York—M iss HelenR a n felt. Yo u kn o wh er
father, L.K. Ra nfelt—Stan l ey, by n ame,at least . There i s their ho meupthe reo n  t he mountain.Y o u ca njust se e i t throu ghthe  fo lia ge —that
whi te house ,wi th  t hegolde n  cupola. ”
“O fcou rse I have h eardof M r.  R a nfe lt,” re t ur n e d St an le y, w hen  h e
had  ack n owl edged t he introd uct i on w it ha bow,and had absor be d a most
f as cin atings m ile from  the young lady. “Who h a s not?His  mine s in 
Nevada—— ”
“Oh, y es! ”  broke  in He len R an fel t .  “Tha t is  al wa ys the way . Eve rybod yhasheard t hat dad has made m a nymillions outofhism i ne s,a nd tha tt hey a re still produc ing. But h ar d ly  any one k n ows  t hat hewould b e a
g r eat man , even if  he had n ev er g o t  to  be a mill ionaire.  You ough t  to
s e e_him_  dr ive aFa nch on, M r. Dow n s—o r any  other  c ar! No  fear  o f his
dr iving into a lake. He m akes a  cardojust what  he lik es. And i t is 
the samewit h e veryt hin g  else  hed oe s.” 
Clay 
 the_grappling irons_a
while ago.”

“My poor car!”_exclaimed a_sweet_voice behind_them._“You really think
it_is done for,_then?”

“Why, Helen!” cried Clay_Varron, swinging around._“Were_you driving
that Fanchon? What the deuce made you do it? I have often heard_your
father_tell you_that_you_must never drive a new_car until he has tested
it_thoroughly himself.”

“Well,_I tested this one for him,” laughed Helen_Ranfelt._“I don’t
think he_will have any more trouble with it. If it_had not been for
this gentleman,” smiling_at Stanley, “he_might_not_have had any more
trouble_with his daughter, either.”

“It was a_perilous proceeding all around,” said Stanley._“But I am
relieved to see that it_had no serious outcome—except for the_car. By
the way, Clay,” he_went on,_turning to Varron, “perhaps you_won’t mind
vouching for_me as_a respectable member_of society to Miss——”

“What? Never been_introduced?” cried Clay,_astonished. “Well, well!
This is Mr. Stanley_Downs,_of New York—Miss_Helen_Ranfelt._You know_her
father, L. K._Ranfelt—Stanley,_by name,_at_least. There is their home
up there_on_the mountain. You can just see it_through the foliage—that
white house,_with_the golden cupola.”

“Of course_I have heard of Mr._Ranfelt,” returned Stanley, when he
had acknowledged_the introduction_with a_bow, and had absorbed a most
fascinating smile from the young lady._“Who has not? His mines in
Nevada——”

“Oh,_yes!” broke in Helen_Ranfelt. “That_is_always the way._Everybody
has_heard that_dad has made many millions out of_his mines,_and that
they are still producing. But_hardly any one knows_that_he would be a
great man, even_if he had never got to_be a millionaire. You ought_to
see__him__drive a Fanchon, Mr. Downs—or_any other car! No fear of_his
driving into a_lake. He makes a car do just_what_he likes. And it is
the same_with_everything else he does.”

Clay