“Our first meeting was under most singular circumstances. You remember how your little dog fell overboard from the steamer. You cried out for Jones to jump for it, and, when he hesitated, you sprang in yourself.” “I remember,” she laughed, showing her fine teeth, surrounded by those curving red lips. “I also remember that Huck Jones did not jump in and get himself wet even then.” “No; he seemed afraid to spoil his ministerial clothes.” “The hypocrite! But some one else sprang into the water and swam to me. Then—if I am right—after telling myself that that person should speak to me first, I—I spoke to him! Isn’t that a humiliating confession to make?” “Your memory is excellent, Miss Dugan,” smiled Merry. “I am sure I could not tell which one of us spoke first.” “I did. I asked you why you jumped in after me, and you said you did it in order to assist me. Then you complimented me on my swimming. But it was a struggle to keep up till the steamer stopped and sent back a boat for us.” “If I remember correctly, you did not seem to mind it at all.” “I think I did not let you know. You told me it was very foolish for me to jump in after my dog. Then you asked how the dog happened to fall overboard.” She stopped and gazed at him with suppressed laughter twinkling from her splendid black eyes, and it was his turn to flush. “I remember that,” he confessed; “and I also remember that you coolly told me the dog had not fallen, overboard—that you had thrown him over.” She continued to laugh silently. “You were convinced that ‘Elder’ Jones would not jump in after him, and you wished to discover if I would be the one to take the plunge. I am willing to confess that the dog might not have proved sufficient inducement, but I could not resist the temptation after I saw you plunge into the water.” Of a sudden the laughter died from her face and eyes. “I suppose it was a very reprehensible thing to do. I presume it was extremely unladylike, and all that. It was by doing such things that I came to have many unpleasant stories told about me. Just because I would not fold my hands and be like other girls—soft, sappy, shy, shrinking, and silly—people decided that I must be bad and fell to talking about me. Now I will leave it to you, how else was I to make your acquaintance? Perhaps I had no right to wish to become acquainted with you, but I did wish to, and I am not ashamed to own it.