"So am I!" said the boy. "She's waiting for me--" And he hurried on. But Miss Canfield was not in the waiting-room. He glanced hurriedly about, and crossed to the open window and looked into the street. He could not sit down. It was a glorious day--floating clouds, everything fresh and flooded with light.... Down on the walk under the window the man-of-all-work trundled a low cart, and the rumble of the wheels came up, chucking clumsily along. The young man scarcely heard the sound of the wheels. His ear was waiting for something in the corridor--for light footsteps that would come.... He shrugged his shoulders, looking down on the man trundling his cart, and he whistled softly.... Then his ear caught the sound, coming along the corridor far off--light, tripping steps and the little swish of draperies--and he had turned to face her. It was not Miss Canfield! A young woman stood in the doorway, looking in inquiringly. She was tall and slender, with a certain quiet grace as she stood there, glancing into the room. There was something poised in the motion--a kind of freedom and lightness. The young man's eye rested on her a minute--and turned back to the window indifferent.... She was very late. He took out his watch and looked--five minutes past the hour. He put it back with a little impatient gesture. They would miss the best light for the garden! Behind him, in the room, he was conscious that the young woman had come in. She was waiting for some one, it seemed, like himself--and he heard her move a little ... and then a subdued laugh. He half turned his head--it reminded him of something.... Could he have met her somewhere--before he went abroad? The steps rustled and came nearer and a touch fell on his shoulder--very light, as if it might drift away--as if perhaps it were not there.... Julian turned swiftly--and stared into her eyes; they were bubbling over with laughter, and the hair fluffing under the little modish hat, caught reddish gleams and glinted at him. And he stared! She laughed out--the hands hanging easily before her. "You didn't know me!" "You are not--_you_!" blurted Julian. "You are--you're different!" Then he seized her hands and looked at her--"I say! Come on!... You are--You're stunning, you know!" "Thank you!" said the girl. "Yes--I'm ready." And they went out into the sunshine. And all the way, in the street-car, sitting beside her, the young man stole glimpses. She was different! He had expected that she would be changed, of course--a little different in her street clothes; and underneath he discovered he had been half afraid of the change--afraid perhaps that she might be a little common or awkward, without the distinction of her cap and uniform.... But this young woman-- He stole another glance, and his shoulders straightened in a gesture of pride and bewildered delight. This was the real thing! The other girl was masquerading.