inside her shoes,
as she lifted now her toes and now her heels from the horizontal.

"Pardon me, madam, but you seem to be in trouble. Can I assist you?"
inquired a courteous voice behind her.

Slowly and painfully Louise turned around in her miniature well. Then
she blushed to the roots of her hair. Ten feet away from her, on the
outer edge of the square, stood a stranger, who was watching her with
an air of respectful sympathy, which was entirely out of harmony with
the amused twinkle of his gray eyes. One quick glance told the girl that
the stranger was young and undeniably good-looking; then her eyes
dropped to the bundle in her hand, as she answered,--

"Thank you, but I'm caught here, and can't seem to find a spot that will
bear me. Don't trouble yourself; I shall get out in a moment. Oh, don't
try to come here!" she added hastily, as he made a motion as if to go
nearer her. "If you do, you will never get out."

The stranger paused doubtfully and looked at her again. There was a tone
of good-breeding in her voice, and, as he came nearer, he saw that she
was pretty, with a delicate, refined beauty which was not in keeping
with her great bundle, her bedraggled appearance, and the hat cocked
rakishly over one ear, above the drooping braids of yellow hair. At
first sight, he had taken her for a pretty servant, out in search of a
new place; but now he realized his mistake, and offered her a mental
apology for his error.

"Perhaps I can tear a board or two off from that fence over there," he
suggested, after a fresh survey of the field. "If you can stay there
for a few minutes, I'll be back with some of them, and make a bridge."

In spite of herself, Louise laughed at the absurdity of her plight.

"Stay here!" she echoed; "I wish I could do anything else. But," she
demurred, "I am afraid you will get into trouble, too."

But the stranger had already gone. A moment or two later, he was back
again, with two long boards under his arm, as he picked his way along
towards the young woman to whose rescue he had so valiantly devoted
himself. Once back at his old station, he dropped one of the boards on
the snow, pushed it towards her, tested its strength, and then walked
the length of it, in order to place the other board in position. This
second bridge brought him to her side.

"Now," he said gravely, as he bent forward and held out his hand, "let
me take the bundle first."

Obeying him as implicitly as a child mig