The Wheels of Chance

First Holiday Morning. All the dreary, uninteresting routine drops from you suddenly, your chains fall about your feet. All at once you are Lord of yourself, Lord of every hour in t

ies of, "Forward, Hoopdriver," no more hasty meals, and weary attendance on fitful old women, for ten blessed days. The first morning is by far the most glorious, for you hold your whole fortune in your hands. Thereafter, every night, comes a pang, a spectre, that will not

d a lark on Putney Heath. The freshness of dew was in the air; dew or the relics of an overnight shower glittered on the leaves and grass. Hoopdriver had breakfasted early by Mrs. Gunn's complaisance. He wheeled his machine up Putney Hill, and his heart sang within him. Halfway

cket of American cloth behind the saddle contained his change of raiment, and the bell and the handle-bar and the hubs and lamp, albeit a trifle freckled by wear, glittered blindingly in the rising sunlight. And at the top of the hill, aft

opulently, using the whole road and even nibbling at the footpath. The excitement never flagged. So far he had never passed or been passed by anything, but as yet the day was young and the road was clear. He doubted his

ston and set himself to scale the little bit of ascent. An early heath-keeper, in his velveteen ja

tanding on the left pedal and waving his right foot in the air. Then--these things take so long in the telling--he found the machine was falling over to the right. While he was deciding upon a plan of action, gravitation appears to have been busy. He was still irresolute whe

y to get off," sai

as twisted askew again He said something under his

t off," repeated the heat

overlook the new specimen on his shin at any cost. He unbuc

--whaddyer do it for?" said the heath-ke

as annoyed. "That's my business, I suppose," he said, fumbling with

his back. "You've broken yer 'andle, ain't yer?" he said presently. Just the

pdriver gave the nut a vicious turn and suddenly stood up--he was holding the front wheel between

livered an ultimatum, he began repl

red harder than he did before. "You're pretty unsociable," he said slowly, as Mr. H

speak to you?" asked the heath-keeper, perceiving more and more clearly the bearing of the matter. "Can't no on

s rigid with emotion. It was like abusing the Lions in Trafal

converse with no one under a earl. 'E's off to Windsor, 'e is; that's why 'e's stickin' his be'ind out so haughty. Pride! Why, 'e's

in a spasmodic attempt to remount.He missed the treadle once and swore vic

oopdriver would have liked to look back at his enemy, but he usually twisted round and upset if he tried that. He had to imagine th

ng, that he rode all the straighter and easier because the emotions the heathkeeper had aroused relieved his mind of the constant expectation of collapse that had previously unnerv

nothing of the sort. A sudden, a wonderful gratitude, possessed him. The Glory of the Holidays had resumed its sway with a sudden accession of splendour. At the crest of the hill he put his feet upon the footrests, and now riding moderately strai

per Hoopdriver, the Hand, had vanished from existence. Instead was a gentleman, a man of pleasure, with a five-pound note, two sovereigns, and some silver at various convenient points of his person. At any rate as good as a Dook, if not precisely in the peerage. Involuntarily at the thought of his funds Hoopdriver's right hand left the handle and sought his breast pocket, to be immediat

e of the houses and yelped at him. He got off, rather breathless, at the foot of Kingston Hill, and pushed up. Halfway up, an early mil

n the hill into Kingston, with the screw hammer, behind in the wallet, rattling against the oil can. He passed, without misadventure, a fruiterer's van and a sluggish cartload of bricks. And in Kingston Hoopdriver, with the most exquisite sensations, saw the shutters half removed from a draper's shop, and two yawning youths, in dusty old black jackets and

as he passed, and to the right of him for a mile or so the weltering Thames flashed and glittered. Talk of your joie