"Thank you." Then he rises with Cecil in his arms, and makes a gesture to Miss St. Vincent, who settles her wide-brimmed hat that has slipped back, and goes on as a leader. She is so light, supple, and graceful! Her plain, loosely fitting dress allows the slim figure the utmost freedom. She is really taller than she looks, though she would be petite beside his sisters. Her foot and ankle are perfect, and the springy step is light as a fawn's. This, then, is the girl whose future they have been discussing, whose hand has been disposed of in marriage as arbitrarily as if she were a princess of royal blood. If Eugene only _would_ marry her! Fortune seems quite sure now, and he is not the man ever to work for it. It must come to him. Once or twice Miss St. Vincent looks back, blushing brightly. She has a natural soft pink in her cheeks that seems like the heart of a rose, and the blush deepens the exquisite tint. They enter the shaded path, and she goes around to the side porch, where the boards have been scrubbed white as snow. "O Denise," she exclaims, "will you get a basin of water and some old linen? This little girl has fallen and scratched her arms badly." Then, with a sudden accession of memory, she continues, "I believe it is the gentleman who has been to see papa." "Mr. Grandon!" Denise says in amaze. "Yes. Your young mistress has saved my little girl from what might have been a sad accident." And he stands Cecil on the speckless floor. Miss St. Vincent throws off her hat. Denise brings some water in a small, old silver basin, and rummages for the linen. Grandon turns up the sleeve of his daughter's dress, and now Cecil begins to cry and shrink away from Denise. "Let me," says the young girl, with that unconscious self-possession so becoming to her, and yet so far removed from boldness. "Now you are going to be very brave," she says to the child. "You know how you held on by the tree and did just as I told you, and now, after your hands are washed, they will feel so much better. It will hurt only a little, and you will be white and clean again." She proceeds with her work as she talks. Cecil winces a little, and her eyes overflow with tears, but beyond an occasional convulsive sob she does not give way. The arm is bandaged with some cooling lotion, and Denise brings her mistress a little cream to anoint the scratched hands. Floyd Grandon has been watching the deft motions of the soft, swift fingers, that make a sort of dazzle of dimples. It certainly is a lovely hand. "Now, does it not feel nice?" Then she washes the tears from the face, and wipes it with a soft towel that is like silk. "You were very good and brave." Cecil, moved by some inward emotion, throws her arms around Miss St. Vincent's neck and kisses her. From a strange impulse the young girl blushes deeply and turns her face away from Grandon.