The driver returned with the wheel. It fitted the axle but was some two or three inches larger in diameter than the other rear wheel and, moreover, it was flat on one side, so that when they started to conclude their journey the motion of the carriage was something startling—a "rock-a-bye baby ride" Mary Louise called it.  
But the wheels turned and the carriage progressed and when they were well on their way the girl said:
 
"What do you think of that man, Gran'pa Jim?"
 
"Do you mean Alora's father, Jason Jones?"
 
"Yes, of course."
 
"I am surprised at two things," said the old Colonel. "First, it is curious that Tony Seaver, a rarely cultured woman, should have married such a man, and again it is amazing that she should have her daughter and her fortune to his care."
 
"Do you know," observed Mary Louise, sliding closer to him and dropping her voice, although there was absolutely no chance of being overheard, "I a mystery in that family, Gran'pa Jim!"
 
"That seems to be one of your regular diversions—to scent mysteries," he replied. "And usually, my dear, the suspicion is unwarranted. The most commonplace people frequently impress you with the idea that they are other than what they seem, are leading double lives, or are endeavoring to some irregularity of conduct. You've a of reading the natures and characteristics of strangers by studying their eyes, their facial expressions and their oddities of , which is interesting psychologically but too often——"
 
"You are unjust, Gran'pa!" declared Mary Louise indignantly. "Didn't you yourself say there are two curious and surprising things about this man Jones?"
 
"Not exactly. I said it was curious and astonishing that Antoinette Seaver should have trusted so a man who impresses me as a . His own child, little Alora, appears to dislike and even to despise him, and——"
 
"There!" cried Mary Louise. "I'm . Your observations fully my remark that there's a mystery in that family. Did you notice the books he brought home and laid upon the table?"
 
"No," said Colonel Hathaway, rather bewildered.
 
"They were novels by Marie Correlli, H. G. Wells and O. Henry. A student? Then a student of modern novels, a man who reads and reads to keep his mind from on past history. He is a disappointed artist, to begin with."
 
"That is certainly odd," rejoined the old gentleman, reflectively. "The one picture I ever saw by Jason Jones was certainly good. I remember that once when I was lunching with Bob Seaver—that was Antoinette's father, you know—he told me his daughter was interested in a young artist of exceptional talent, and he took me to a g............