As he dismounted, she jumped to her feet. "Oh, my dear Mr. Levine! My dear! My dear!" she cried and hair flying, she ran to him and threw her arms about his neck, burying her face against his rough corduroy coat. John threw a long arm about her, and held her to him closely, while with his free hand he smoothed back the glory of her hair. And Miss Towne, watching, saw his long saturnine face transformed. "Why, Lydia, my little sweetheart! I didn't realize you'd missed me so." He held her silently for a moment, then, catching Miss Towne's gaze, he smiled. "Lydia has few loves, but they're strong," he said. "I'm her foster father. My name's John Levine." Lydia disengaged herself. "And this is Miss Towne," she said, "my dearest teacher." "I've heard your praises sung for a long time," said Levine. "And I've heard Lydia sing yours," returned Miss Towne. "And no one else, I'll bet," laughed John. "Sit down," said the chaperone, with what dignity she could muster with her hair down her back, "while Lydia and I finish dressing." "You'll have lunch with us?" called Lydia as she retreated toward the tent. "Yes, but I can't stay longer. Must be back in Lake City for supper," replied Levine, tying up his horse. The luncheon was a success. Lydia was delighted to put her hand to cooking again, and while Miss Towne set the table, John chatted with both of them of his Washington experiences. He rode away immediately after he had finished eating. Miss Towne wiped the dishes thoughtfully. "It's hard to realize that he's the scandalous John Levine," she said. "He's simply charming!" Lydia flared, flushed and subsided. Never again, she realized, could she contradict aspersions cast on Levine's character. And yet, how like a bad dream the episode of last night seemed. If only it had been a dream! "You're not resentful still about my criticism of your slang using, are you, Lydia?" asked Miss Towne, anxiously. "No," muttered Lydia, "I deserved it." Miss Towne's face cleared. "Well, then, tell me all about your friend. He interests me." Nothing could have soothed Lydia more in her half guilty feeling of having spied unfairly on John than to spend the rest of the afternoon in a history of his relationship to her family. Side by side in the hammock the two lay during the rest of the sunny summer afternoon, gazing up into the pines and talking of the curious personality that was making history for Lake City. In after years, whenever she thought of Levine, Miss Towne's memory brought her two pictures--one of the tall, sardonic faced man clasping the golden haired girl in his arms. The other was of pine boughs, murmuring sadly and persistently above the gentle flow of Lydia's young voice. That night the young people sat alone around the camp fire. The chaperone complained of a headache and went to bed soon after supper. When she had disappeared, and the tent flap had dropped behind her, Gustus chanted softly,