“‘Permit me to offer my umbrella, miss.’ “I glanced up into the eager dark eyes of the young man I had seen so often in the building that afternoon. “I shrank with instinctive dislike, and was about to utter a nervous refusal, and plunge out into the pouring rain, when a loud clap of thunder and a vivid flash of lightning made me draw back in terror so great that I could not speak the words that trembled on my lips. “‘This is dreadful!’ exclaimed the young man, holding the umbrella carefully over my head to shield me from the storm. ‘You had better draw back out of the rain, miss, and when it holds up I will escort you to the gates and find a carriage for you.’ “‘Oh,’ I cried, my anxiety loosening my lips, ‘my friends are waiting for me at the Virginia Building! I cannot wait, for they will be uneasy over my delay.’ “‘At least take my umbrella!’ he exclaimed, so kindly that I hesitated. “‘I cannot rob you of it, sir,’ I replied. “‘Then permit me to hold it over your head, if you must go,’ he returned, gently, and drawing my hand through his arm, hurried politely down the steps. “We reached the Virginia Building, but it was closed and deserted. Mrs. Maynard and the girls were gone. “‘They are probably waiting for you at the gate. I will conduct you to them,’ said my companion, and we joined the draggled, hurrying throngs that were rushing toward the Fifty-seventh street entrance. Alas! in the twilight gloom, the pouring rain, and the rush and confusion, my friends were not to be found. “I was wretchedly uncomfortable, my feet soaked, my heart heavy with an indefinable horror that I thought was fear of a scolding from Mrs. Maynard, but which I realize now was an awful presentiment of what was hanging darkly over me. I was on the very point of bursting into babyish tears when my companion said, kindly: “‘It seems impossible to find your friends in this confusion, miss, and it would be better to take a carriage and go straight to your hotel, where you will probably find them awaiting you.’ “I assented, and, after some delay, he secured a carriage, and when I had named my hotel, he spoke to the driver, then sprang into the carriage by my side. “‘Oh, sir, this is not necessary. You need not accompany me,’ I protested, in strange haste to get rid of my handsome escort. “‘I beg your pardon, but I had better see you safely with your friends,’ he replied, so gallantly that I feared I had seemed discourteous, and let him have his way. After all, I reflected, he had been very kind and respectful; I really had no grounds for dreading him. “While we drove along the rainy streets, he told me that his name was Adelbert Stanley, and that he lived in Chicago. I returned his courtesy by giving him my own name, and added the particulars of my visit to the World’s Fair with my teacher and friends.