"The other girls would like the sweets," he suggested. "Could I give them away?" she asked with a flash of interest. "You may do anything you like with them," he responded eagerly. "So it is all settled, then, and I may be your friend?" "I don’t know," said Dawn again. "I suppose it will have to be as father and Friend Ruth say." "No need to consult them in the matter. Leave that to me. All I want is your consent. Remember I am going to visit you next month and bring you something nice." But by this time the others had reached them. "Charming view, Mr. Van Rensselaer. I had no idea you could see New York so plainly from this point," said the young man. Dawn stepped over and stood beside Friend Ruth, looking thoughtfully down the river. She would like the box of confections well enough, for not many sweets were allowed at the school and they could have a treat down in the woods, beside the brook. But somehow she had a vague uneasiness about this friendship. She did not like the stranger’s face. Her father and the other man went away after the noonday meal. The stranger’s name, she learned, was Harrington Winthrop, and that he was interested in a business enterprise with her father. The matter passed entirely from her mind, only, after that, when she sat alone to brood over her life, a new dream took the place of the old. Always there was a lovely home all her own, with comfortable chairs and plenty of books, and thin, sprigged china, such as had been her mother’s. In this home she was sole mistress. Day by day she dreamed out the pretty rooms, and dwelt in them, and even occasionally let her imagination people them. The image of her beautiful mother hovered about that home and stayed, but there came into it no one to annoy or disturb. When the two men settled themselves in the stage that night, the younger began to talk: "Do you know you have a very beautiful daughter, Mr. Van Rensselaer?"