It is to be expected that Mary Louise, by virtue of her own wealth and her grandfather’s political and social position, as well as her own personal beauty and loveliness, was easily admitted “The Queen of Dorfield.” There were many charming girls in the quaint little city, nearly all being members of the “Liberty Girls,” an organization conceived by Mary Louise Burrows which had done a lot of good during the war. Indeed, many of these girls were heiresses, or with money in their own right.

Yet wealth was no latch-key to the affections of Mary Louise. Just next door to Colonel Hathaway’s splendid mansion was a neat story-and-a-half dwelling that had not cost half as much as the Hathaway stables, but it was cozy and home-like, and in it lived Irene Macfarlane, the niece of Mr. Peter Conant, the most important lawyer of Dorfield, but by no means a wealthy man.

With Peter Conant lived Irene, who was treated by “Aunt Hannah” (Mrs. Peter Conant) and her husband as a daughter.

Irene had been crippled from birth and was confined to a wheel chair. She was a bright little thing, and Mary Louise, as well as the other girls, was very fond of Irene Macfarlane. Also among the “Liberty Girls” were enrolled Betsy Barnes, the shoemaker’s daughter, and Alora Jones whose father—Jason Jones—was by far the richest man in Dorfield. Alora owned much of the best property in Dorfield but was waiting for her majority to obtain it, for it belonged exclusively to her dead mother. Then there was Laura Hilton, a popular favorite whose father owned some stock in the mill and worked there. The father of Phoebe Phelps was well-to-do, but not wealthy as either Colonel Hathaway or Jason Jones.

Mary Louise never gave a thought to their worldly possessions. If they were “nice girls” she took them to her heart at once.

All girls are prone to gossip (in Dorfield it was a distinctly harmless amusement), and usually Mary Louise and her chums gathered in Irene’s sitting-room, where the surroundings were sweet and “homey.” So, on the day they took their ride with Danny Dexter as chauffeur—Danny dressed in his new uniform—the four girls who had been favored by Mary Louise as passengers met at the Conant residence and began to quiz their friend. From them the news would fly throughout the city, where every little thing is of interest, and Mary Louise was quite aware of that fact.

Irene had been with them, of course, but Irene was a general favorite and her “talking machinery,” as all the girls realized, had not been affected by the trouble which made her an invalid. Then there were Alora Jones, Laura Hilton, and last of all Phoebe Phelps.

“It’s really a ‘five-passenger,’” declared Mary Louise, “but it will take six at a pinch, as you saw to-day. Gran’pa Jim’s old gas buggy was called a seven passenger, but only six could ride in it comfortably as the extra seat was always in the way; yet you know, girls, what a time I had to induce him to sell his hayrack and buy me this beauty.”

“Uncle Eben could drive the Colonel’s car though,” remarked Alora, “while you had to get a chauffeur.” Uncle Eben and Aunt Sally, an aged black man and his wife, were the house servants. “That makes it more expensive.” “Well, we’ve the money to pay him, anyhow,” retorted Mary Louise, “and then Eben is too old and stiff now to take care of the garden and do all the outside work. Danny does all that now.”

“Oh, that alters the circumstances,” agreed Phoebe Phelps. “But it seems funny to see an old black man and a young soldier boy wearing the Hathaway uniform.”

“It is funny,” admitted Mary Louise, laughing, “but the soldier wanted it that way. He said it made him proud to wear the Hathaway badge of respectability. He’s a total stranger around here, you know—lives in some Eastern city and has conceived a remarkable admiration for little Dorfield.”

“Is that all you know about him?” asked Laura, suspiciously.

“He’s a soldier,” said Mary Louise proudly, “and entered the service a common private and came out a top-sergeant. That’s something.”

“Shows he’s popular with his mates and a good soldier,” agreed Irene.

“He was appointed to Company C of our regiment, together with some others, after the battle of Argonne,” continued Mary Louise, lauding her hero earnestly, “and was twice wounded before being sent home with the Dorfielders. He had been offered an honorable discharge when he got that terrible cut across the forehead, but in a week he was back with the boys, fighting desperately.”

“Did he bring any recommendations?” asked Phoebe.

“Will White told me his story, and so far as recommendation is concerned, every man in the Dorfield Regiment will swear by him and stand for Danny Dexter to the last gasp. Don’t you like my new chauffeur, girls?”

“I do,” responded Laura Hilton. “Father offered him a nice job at the mill, but he turned it down.”

“It was the same with my father,” announced Phoebe.

“The back yard looks neater than it has in years,” commented Irene, “and he surely proved to us this afternoon that he understood driving an auto.”

“Gran’pa Jim declares it was my automobile that won him,” Mary Louise stated. “He wasn’t anxious to be our hired man, either, until he caught sight of the car, when he at once hired out.”

“Well, it is a swell car,” declared Alora Jones, “and has every modern appliance. Besides, it shines like a diamond in the sun.”

“My, she’s only had the thing a month,” said Phoebe, “and it’s the most expensive little car in the market. Several have been sold in Dorfield already.” There was envy in this speech, and all the girls sighed in unison. Mary Louise, however, smiled slyly for she knew that with the exception of Irene, any one of the girls present could afford to buy a duplicate of her car.

“Well, the Hathaway establishment is blossoming out,” said Laura lightly, “and one man—a hard-working soldier—seems responsible for the transformation.”

“No, let’s put the auto first,” objected Irene. “First the old Colonel is cajoled into selling his ancient rattle-trap and buying Mary Louise a luxurious car, the latest model offered for sale; then comes along a soldier who falls in love with the car, and to get the fun of handling the machine hires out to the Hathaways. He proves a good man all-around and soon has the old place slicked up as if it were new.”

“That’s all an example of Mary Louise’s luck,” commented Laura. “It couldn’t possibly happen to anybody else.” “I’m inclined to think that’s true,” added Phoebe, laughing at their earnest faces. “Mary Louise seems to get the best of what happens around Dorfield, but that’s not her fault—the dear little heart—and I’m mighty glad things come her way for she deserves it.”

“The dealer, Lou Gottschalk, had six of these cars shipped in one batch, the 1919 model,” explained Mary Louise, “and this was the last to sell—merely because it had a few fixin’s not attached to the others. The fixin’s made it some prettier, but no better running, and there’s no change in the gear.”

Day after day Mary Louise won more praise from her girl friends by taking them to ride in her new automobile, which her new man kept shining as brilliantly as varnish will shine. When perched on the driver’s seat in the Hathaway uniform—modest and inconspicuous—Danny lent an added air of dignity to the outfit, and he certainly found time, after looking after the garden, drives and lawn, to keep the car immaculate also. Night after night Mary Louise could see the light shining in his tower, which proved he did not waste an instant of his time.

One afternoon, when the soldier was at the store, Mary Louise visited this tower room and discovered there were several things that might add to his comfort and convenience; so she purchased a cheap but comfortable lounge, several cozy chairs, a new rug and a big “high-boy” full of drawers and shelves. This was done in gratitude for Danny’s faithful work, and he showed his appreciation by means of a smile and nod, without ruining the event by a word of speech.

He kept up well, too, and was never a slacker in his work. If the work got a little ahead of him he got up earlier in the morning and accomplished his tasks in that way. Mary Louise was very proud of her hired man’s ability.