"Oh, I just happened to," he answered, "I was out that morning, with my kodak all ready, looking for a subject, and I saw Tom milking, and thought it would be fun to take a picture of him to send back to the class-boys, you know; I held the kodak up and was just ready--when that old cow sent him flying quicker than lightning, and I caught the picture all right. I'm going to mail him one copy." There was a picture of Tom's baby, taking his bath, his mouth wide open and his eyes shut, crying lustily for his mother, who had deserted him to run to Tom's assistance. Then there were pictures of Rutherford's home and friends, among them, that of a brother, older than himself, which particularly attracted Lyle's attention; she looked at it long and earnestly. He was sitting in an easy attitude, smoking a cigar, and looking at the face of a beautiful, dark-eyed girl, of about her own age, which appeared above him, encircled by the light clouds of smoke,--just the face and no more. Rutherford stated that it was his brother and their only sister, and explained the process by which it was taken, but the picture remained in Lyle's memory for many a day. After a while, Houston, returning a little early on account of the storm, joined them, and the four friends spent the most enjoyable evening which they had yet known together, notwithstanding the storm. It had been an eventful day. To Lyle, and one or two of the others, it was the beginning of a new life, though they did not then realize it; the first, faint flush that heralds the coming of the sun to brighten the new day, but which is so subtle and silent, that few are aware of its presence. Houston, on his return to the house at noon, had given, in answer to Rutherford's eager inquiries, an account of the "skirmish" as he called it. Rutherford was so proud of his friend, and of the victory he had won, that at the first opportunity, he told the story to Miss Gladden, before Houston had even returned to the office. Miss Gladden was enthusiastic in her admiration of the course he had taken, so different from many of the young men she had known in wealthy, aristocratic circles, in thus defending a poor, friendless girl, subject to insult because she had the misfortune, under such circumstances, to be beautiful; and obeying the impulses of her noble-hearted, high-spirited nature, she went to Houston, as she saw him standing alone a few minutes after dinner, and extending her hand, with a bright smile, said: "Sir Knight, I want to thank you, in Lyle's name and my own, for the chivalric course you have taken this morning." She could get no further; Houston, still holding her hand, interrupted her. "Do not thank me, Miss Gladden; I have only done what it is the duty of every true man to do."