The curious feeling which makes one aware of being looked at caused him to turn and look up as he finished the verse, and he longed for the self-possession of his room-mate as he vainly struggled to think of something to say which should not be utterly inane. He felt himself blushing, but he was well aware that a blush on his sunburned face was not so charmingly becoming as it was to the vision on the bank. It was she who spoke at last, with the ghost of a smile accompanying her speech. "I beg your pardon," she said, "but I was told that I should probably find an old man here who would row me across. Do you know where he's gone?" "He is--that is--I think--I believe he's gone to dinner," stammered this usually inflexible advocate of truth. And it did not occur to Rosamond to suggest that between four and five in the afternoon was an unusual dinner-hour for a ferryman. She looked very much disappointed, and turned as if to go. "Won't you--may I--" eagerly stammered the youth, and added desperately, "I'm here in his place," mentally explaining to an outraged conscience that this was literally true, for was not his boat tied to a stake, and must not that stake have been driven by the old man for _his_ boat? Dr. Watts has told us that Sinners who grow old in sin Are hardened in their crimes, and the hardening process must sometimes take place with fearful rapidity, for when Rosamond, having guilelessly accepted the statement and allowed the ferryman to help her to the broad cushioned seat in the stern of the boat, asked innocently, "How much is it--for both ways, I mean? for I want to come back, if you don't mind waiting a little," he answered, with a look of becoming humility, "It is five cents, please." "You mean for one way?" she inquired, as she fished a very small purse up from the depths of her pocket. And he, reflecting that two and a half cents for one way would have an air of improbability about it, answered promptly, "Yes, if you please." She opened her purse and introduced a thumb and finger, but she withdrew them with a promptness and a look of horror upon her face which suggested the presence of some noxious insect. "You'll have to take me back, please," she said faintly. "I forgot to put any money in my purse, and I've only just found it out." "It is not of the least consequence," he began hurriedly, adding, in business-like tones, "You can make it all right the next time, you know. I suppose it will not be long before you cross again?" "I don't know," she replied. "That depends upon whether or not I find--" and then, remembering that the professor had gently cautioned her about talking over her small affairs with any one but himself, she changed the end of her sentence into "I have to. But I will bring you the money to-morrow afternoon, if you will be here," she went on. "I am so ashamed that I forgot it; and you're _very_ kind to trust me, when I'm such a perfect stranger to you. Don't people ever cheat you?"