You're the one who's been good," he said, "and
I bet no one ever thought it was your coming-out party. I'll be here
to-morrow at two; so long," and he was gone.

The next day found them together again walking across the Brooklyn
Bridge.

"Ever done this before?" asked Dick.

"No," answered Hertha, "but isn't it wonderful?"

"You bet! Say, you're a good walker, though. I reckon you've walked a
lot."

"Yes, I've often walked of a Sunday afternoon."

"Who with?"

"My brother."

There was a defiant tremor in her voice. Ever since her slip with
Kathleen she had made up her mind that her past life should include a
brother.

"Oh, if you've got a brother," turning on her abruptly, "why don't he
take care of you?"

"He's too young; but anyway I wouldn't let him. I mean to support
myself."

"Oh, I say, Miss Hertha, don't feel like that! Don't get like these
modern girls up here who won't even let a man pick up a handkerchief for
'em. That isn't the kind of girl a man likes."

"Isn't it?"

"No. A man likes a girl he can help over places, whether they're out
walking together just for the day or for life."

"I suppose you think a man never wants to be helped."

"Yes, he does, lots of ways. They're no end of ways a woman helps a man,
to keep him straight and all that." He reddened a little. "But he ought
to do the hard work, all the dirty jobs, and it's a dirty job going out
to earn your living. And if it isn't dirty, it's too hard. Women ought
not to have long hours like men. I bet your brother's reckoning on
caring for you when he gets old enough."

Hertha was silent.

"Isn't he?"

"I reckon he'd like to."

"You let him then. Only likely you'll be married long before that."

They reached the end of the bridge and were rushed along in an elevated
train until they got out at Prospect Park.

The March day was clear and almost warm, and as they walked down a
pleasant path by the lake, Hertha was sure that she saw signs of the
spring. Buds were swelling, the willow trees showed faint touches of
yellow, while on a bare elm tree branch perched a bluebird.

"How lovely it will be here later," she said.

"There, that's exactly what I want to talk with you about," Dick Brown
exclaimed. "Isn't this a lot nicer now than off the Bowery?"

The girl glanced at him questioningly.

"It's going to be mighty hot where you are as soon as summer comes. I'm
right sure of it. And noise! Think of the noise when you have