"I'll go," she whispered breathlessly. "There's a little park a block down the street. I'll be there at seven o'clock, by the statue." "I'll be there, waiting for you," he replied, and because he could not bear the strange sweet pain that filled him he plunged out of the shop, jerking the door so that the little bell squealed with surprise. He had forgotten his packages. Also, as he remembered presently, he did not know her name. He was at the feet of the statue in the park by half-past six, and spent a restless half hour there in the cool spring twilight. Perhaps she would not come! Perhaps he had frightened her, even as he had frightened himself, by this inexplicable boldness. Other girls passed by, and some of them glanced with a coquettish challenge at the handsome tall youth with his frowning brow. But he did not see them. Presently--and it was just on the stroke of seven--he saw her coming, hesitantly, and with an air of complete and proper primness. She had on a plain little shabby suit and hat, but round her throat was a string of beads of a blue to match her eyes, an enticing, naive harmony. She carried the forgotten aprons, and handed them to him gravely. "You left these," she said; and then, to regularize the situation, "My name's Anita Smithers. I ought've told you this afternoon, but--I guess I was kind of forgetful, too." That made them both smile, and the smile left them less shy. He stuffed the forgotten aprons into his overcoat pocket. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come. Where can we go? I don't know anything much about the city. I'd like to take you to a nice picture show, the best there is." She flushed with the glory of it. "There's a real nice picture house only a little ways from here. They got a Pauline Frederick film on. I'm just crazy about Pauline Frederick." By this time they were walking sedately out of the park, not daring to look at each other. She watched him while he bought the tickets and then a box of caramels from the candy stand inside. "He knows what to do," she thought proudly. "He's not a bit of a hick." "D'you go to the pictures a lot?" he asked when they were seated. "'Most every night. I'm just crazy about 'em." "I expect you've got steady company, then?" The question fairly jerked out of him. She shook her head. "No, I almost always go by myself. My girl friend, she goes with me sometimes." He sighed with relief. "They got good picture shows in Frederick. I go 'most every Saturday night." "But you don't live right in Frederick, you said." He seized the chance to tell her about himself.