Ample time had passed now for Dorothy Dale to consider from all standpoints this really wonderful thing that had come into her life and had so changed her outlook. On the surface she might seem the same Dorothy Dale to her friends and relatives; but secretly the whole world was different to her since that shopping trip she and Tavia had taken to New York wherein she and her chum had met Garry Knapp. A thousand times Dorothy had called up the details of every incident of the adventure—this greatest of all adventures Dorothy Dale had ever entered upon. She felt that she should never meet again a man like Garry Knapp. None of the boys she had known before had ever made much of an impression on Dorothy Dale’s well-balanced mind. But from the beginning she had looked upon the young Westerner with a new vision. His reflection filled the mirror of her thought as splendidly as at first. The dimple that showed faintly in one bronzed cheek, his rather large but well-formed features, his mop of black hair, his broad shoulders and well-set-up body—all these personal attributes belonging to Garry Knapp were as clearly fixed in Dorothy’s mind now as at first. So, too, her memory of all that had happened was clear. Garry’s proffered help in the department store when Tavia was in trouble first aroused Dorothy to an appreciation of his unstudied kindness. It was the most natural thing in the world for him to offer aid when he saw anybody in trouble. Dorothy blushed now whenever she thought of her doubts of Garry Knapp when she had seen him so easily fall into conversation with the department store salesgirl on the street. Why! that was exactly what he would do—especially if the girl asked him for help. She still blushed at the remembrance of the jealous feeling that had prompted her avoidance of the young man until his action was explained. Her pique had shortened her acquaintanceship with Garry Knapp. She might have known him far better had it not been for that incident of the shopgirl. “And my own suspicion was the cause of it. I refused to meet Garry Knapp as Tavia did. Why! she knows him better than I do,” Dorothy Dale told herself. It was after her discovery of why Tavia had been writing to Lance Petterby and receiving answers from that “happy tho’ married cowboy person,” to quote Tavia, that Dorothy so searched her own heart regarding Garry Knapp. “You are a dear, loyal friend, Tavia,” she told her chum. “But—but _why_ are you trying so to get in touch with Mr. Knapp?” “Really want me to tell you?” demanded Tavia. “Yes.” “Truly-rooly—black-and-bluely?” “Of course, dear.” “Because I have been a regular ivory-kopf!” cried Tavia. “Forgive my hybrid German. Oh, Dorothy! I didn’t want to tell you, for I hoped Lance might quickly find your Garry Knapp.” “_My_ Garry Knapp,” said Dorothy, blushing. “Yes, my dear. Don’t dodge the fact. We all seem to be suddenly grown up. We are shucking our shells of maidenhood like crabs——”