ed after, steering occasionally from behind
when expert skill was needed, or firing a snowball at any boy who got in
the way of their triumphal progress. It was glorious sport, and there
was no knowing how long it might have continued had not Dick Brown,
careless in his growing skill, looked away from duty for a moment and
striking an obstacle in the path, rolled Hertha into the snow.

Protected by his great coat she was entirely unhurt, both in person and
in dress and she found herself laughing immoderately as he helped her
up; but he was prostrate in his contrition.

"I'm the stupidest hill billy in Casper County," he said. "I'd like to
kick myself. Are you sure you aren't hurt?"

"Of course, I'm not! The snow is as soft as a pillow. Don't mind,
please, Mr. Brown, we've had such fun."

"Have you? I have, but I wouldn't have dumped you out that way, not for
a hundred dollars."

"You could have done it for five cents."

The snow was brushed from her dress and she was standing, her muff
pulled over her arm, settling her hat in place.

"It's not quite straight," he said and moved as though to put it right
for her.

She drew back, indignant. Was he going to be fresh and spoil everything
after their jolly time together?

"Excuse me!" he grew red with embarrassment. Here was a girl with whom
evidently he must never practise the code of manners agreeable to the
girls at his own home. He added somewhat lamely, "It's all right now."

"I'm glad," she was her shyest self again; "and now good-by."

"You won't let me take you home?"

"I'm not going home," and she held out her hand.

He shook it heartily. "I mean to read the book through," he declared.

"I think you'll like it. Good-by."

"Good-by."

Watching her walk across the park and down the street until the little
hat with its red feather was lost to sight, Dick Brown saw before him
many evenings spent in a public library reading-room. He had been lonely
since he had come, four months ago, a stranger to New York. It was not
his first experience away from Casper County--a year of business in
Atlanta had proved a preface to his New York position--but he had never
before been in a city quite without home acquaintances. New York was a
fine place for movies and restaurants, for walks up Broadway, a cigar in
your mouth, watching whisky and petticoats, spool cotton and the latest
leg show, wink their merits at you overhead; but it was poor in nice
girls. There wer