ed it. Winslow was a gentleman, and that Nelly Ray, whom nobody
knew anything about, not even where she came from, was only a common
hired girl, and he had no business to be hanging about her. She was
pretty, to be sure; but she was absurdly stuck-up and wouldn't
associate with other Riverside "help" at all. Well, pride must have a
fall; there must be something queer about her when she was so awful
sly as to her past life.

Winslow and Nelly did not trouble themselves in the least over all
this gossip; in fact, they never even heard it. Winslow was hopelessly
in love, when he found this out he was aghast. He thought of his
father, the ambitious railroad magnate; of his mother, the brilliant
society leader; of his sisters, the beautiful and proud; he was
honestly frightened. It would never do; he must not go to see Nelly
again. He kept this prudent resolution for twenty-four hours and then
rowed over to the West shore. He found Nelly sitting on the bank in
her old faded print dress and he straightway forgot everything he
ought to have remembered.

Nelly herself never seemed to be conscious of the social gulf between
them. At least she never alluded to it in any way, and accepted
Winslow's attentions as if she had a perfect right to them. She had
broken the record by staying with Mrs. Pennington four weeks, and
even the cats were in subjection.

Winslow was well enough to have gone back to the city and, in fact,
his father was writing for him. But he couldn't leave Beckwiths',
apparently. At any rate he stayed on and met Nelly every day and
cursed himself for a cad and a cur and a weak-brained idiot.

One day he took Nelly for a row up the river. They went further than
usual around the Bend. Winslow didn't want to go too far, for he knew
that a party of his city friends, chaperoned by Mrs. Keyton-Wells,
were having a picnic somewhere up along the river shore that day. But
Nelly insisted on going on and on, and of course she had her way. When
they reached a little pine-fringed headland they came upon the
picnickers, within a stone's throw. Everybody recognized Winslow.
"Why, there is Burton!" he heard Mrs. Keyton-Wells exclaim, and he
knew she was putting up her glasses. Will Evans, who was an especial
chum of his, ran down to the water's edge. "Bless me, Win, where did
you come from? Come right in. We haven't had tea yet. Bring your
friend too," he added, becoming conscious that Winslow's friend was a
mighty pretty g