"_I_ have no modern accomplishments to earn a living by. Mine are all old-fashioned; and no one cares for such nowadays, except in servants. I may be very glad of them, though; for playing lady doesn't seem half so honest as going out to service, when one has nothing but an empty pair of hands," she said with a wistful yet courageous look at the wintry world outside, which made her companion feel a strong desire to counsel and protect this confiding young Columbus, who knew so little of the perils which would beset her voyage in search of a woman's El Dorado. "Come to me for a recommendation before you try it. I can vouch for your cooking, you know. But I'd advise you to play lady till you discover a good safe place. I don't believe you'll find it hard, for the world is likely to be very kind to such as you," he answered, so cheerily that she brightened like a flower to which a stray sunbeam is very welcome. A shrill whistle announced that the journey was over, and everybody began at once to fuss and fumble. John got up to take his valise from the rack, and Dolly began to struggle into her rubbers. She was still bending down to do this, with as little damage as possible to her best gloves, when she heard a sounding slap and a hearty voice cry out,-- "Hullo, John!" then add in a lower tone, "So there _is_ a Mrs. Harris, you sly dog, you?" "Hush! there isn't. How are you, George?" returned another voice, beginning in a hurried whisper and ending in an unnecessarily loud salutation. What happened for a minute or two after that Dolly did not know; for the rubbers proved so refractory that she only rose from the encounter flushed and hurried, as the train entered the station. "Let me make myself useful in looking after your baggage," said her self-constituted escort, handing her out with great respect and care. "Thank you: all my things come by express, so I've nothing to do but get into a carriage." "Then allow me to see you safely there, for the sake of the treasures, if nothing else;" and John led her away, utterly ignoring the presence of "George," who stood looking after them, with a face full of good-humored interest and amusement. "I'm very much obliged. Good-by," said Dolly, from the coach window. "Not good-by: I'm coming to the fair, you know," answered John, lingering at the door as if loath to lose sight of his little friend. "I forgot all about it!" "I didn't; for I depend on the cakes and ale and all the other good things promised me." "You will find them there," with a smile, and then a sudden blush as she remembered that he had not only agreed to speak to "Miss Dolly," but to "win her old heart." He remembered also, and laughed as he bowed with the same audacious look he had worn when he made that rash vow. "I wonder if he _will_ come?" thought the girl, as she drove away.