A pause followed in which visions of a big beefsteak with crisply fried potatoes blotted out every other picture from Steve's mind. "Perhaps we ought not to have waited," he heard his mother murmur. "But I had not the heart to disappoint Doris. She is so fond of Jane and has talked so much about her! I had no idea it would take her so long to--" "Here she comes!" Mr. Tolman broke in. Stephen glanced up. Yes, there was Doris hurrying across the grass and beside her, walking with the same free and buoyant swing, was the girl of the golden hair,--Jane Harden. With the same reserve and yet without a shadow of self-consciousness she came forward and in acknowledgment of the hurried introductions extended her hand with a grave smile of welcome; but both smile and gesture carried with them a sincerity very appealing. When she greeted Steve he flushed at being addressed as _Mr. Tolman_ and mentally rose six inches in his boots. Yes, she was decidedly pretty, far prettier than she had been in the distance even. In all his life he had never seen a more attractive girl. "I hope, Jane, that you are coming home with Doris for a visit sometime when your own family can spare you," he heard his mother say. "We all should like to have you." "And I should like to come," was the simple and direct answer. "Do plan on it then. Come any time that you can arrange to. We should very much enjoy having you, shouldn't we, Stephen?" Stephen, so suddenly appealed to, turned very red and answered "Yes" in a tone that seemed to come gruffly from way down inside his chest, and then to the sound of hasty farewells the car started and shot out into the village street and the campus with its rainbow-hued occupants was lost to sight. "A charming girl, isn't she?" Mrs. Tolman said to her husband. "So natural and unaffected! Doris says that she is quite the idol of the college and bids fair to be class president. I wish Doris would bring her home for the holidays." Inwardly Steve echoed the sentiment but outwardly he preserved silence. He was too human a boy to dwell long on thoughts of any girl and soon Jane Harden was quite forgotten in the satisfaction of a steaming dinner and a comfortable bed, and the fairy journey of the next day when amid a splendor of crimson and gold the glories of Jacob's Ladder and the Mohawk Trail stretched before his eyes. Within the week the big red car headed for Coventry and without a mishap rolled into the familiar main street of the town which never had seemed dearer than after the interval of absence. As the automobile sped past, friendly faces nodded from the sidewalks and hands were waved in greeting. Presently his mother called from the tonneau: "Isn't that the Taylors' car, Henry, coming toward us? If it is do stop, for I want to speak to them."