I sprang out of the hammock, loosed the ring from the hook and threw the canvas aside to make way for her. She appeared a perfect picture of glorious loveliness and contagious health. She did not speak for a moment, but her eyes took me in from head to heel. I felt confident in the knowledge that the figure I presented was decidedly more pleasing than when last she had seen me. I was glad, for I knew, even with my small acquaintance with the opposite sex, that the woman is not alive who does not prefer to see a man clean, tidy and neat. I pushed the store doors open and followed her in. Again, that bewitching little uplifting of the eyebrows; again the alluring relaxation of her full lips; silent ways, apparently, of expressing her pleasure. The appearance of my store, on this occasion, met with her approval. She laid aside her sunshade and handed me a long, neatly written list of groceries which she required; not all, but most of which, I was able to fill. "Make up the bill,--please. I wish to pay it now. I shall not wait until you make up the goods. If not too much trouble, would you----" I was listening to the soft cadences of her voice, when she stopped. She was leaning lightly with her elbow on the counter. I was on the inner side, bending over my order book. When her voice stopped, I felt that she was looking at the top of my head. I raised my face suddenly and, to her, unexpectedly. For the first time, I saw clearly into her eyes. My breath caught, as, like a flash, I saw myself standing in the doorway of Modley Farm, along with my old chum, Tom Tanner; his mother beside us, with her arms round our shoulders; and I remembered the flippant conversation we had at that time. The young lady before me had eyes of a liquid, golden-brown, lighter in colour than her hair, yet of wondrous depth and very attractive; inexpressibly attractive. I averted my gaze quickly, but not quickly enough for her to miss the admiration I had so openly shown. She picked up a tin from the counter and scanned the label. "The delivery wagon is at your service, my lady," I put in lightly. "Thank you!" she answered in relief. I totted up the bill and handed it to her. "Eight dollars and thirty-five cents," I said. "Now, Mr. Bremner,--please add your charge for the conveying of my piano, so that I may pay my debts altogether." I gasped in amazement. I straightened myself indignantly, for the idea of making a charge for that work had never entered my head. And I knew Jake had never thought of such a thing either. It had been simply a little neighbourly assistance. The mention of payment annoyed me. "There is no charge, Miss Grant," was all I could trust myself to say. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Surely you must understand that it is not my habit to engage men to work for me without payment!" "We did not look upon it in the nature of ordinary work," I put in. "It was a pleasure, and we did it as any neighbours would do a favour."