“Ah, moon of my soul! light of my life!” he cried, but he cried it within him, though it almost escaped his vigilance to his lips. What he really said sounded almost harsh in consequence. “How did you know my name?” he asked. She planted both elbows on the Norway and framed her little face deliciously with her long pointed hands. “If Mr. Harry Thorpe can ask that question,” she replied, “he is not quite so impolite as I had thought him.” “If you don't stop pouting your lips, I shall kiss them!” cried Harry--to himself. “How is that?” he inquired breathlessly. “Don't you know who I am?” she asked in return. “A goddess, a beautiful woman!” he answered ridiculously enough. She looked straight at him. This time his gaze dropped. “I am a friend of Elizabeth Carpenter, who is Wallace Carpenter's sister, who I believe is Mr. Harry Thorpe's partner.” She paused as though for comment. The young man opposite was occupied in many other more important directions. Some moments later the words trickled into his brain, and some moments after that he realized their meaning. “We wrote Mr. Harry Thorpe that we were about to descend on his district with wagons and tents and Indians and things, and asked him to come and see us.” “Ah, heart o' mine, what clear, pure eyes she has! How they look at a man to drown his soul!” Which, even had it been spoken, was hardly the comment one would have expected. The girl looked at him for a moment steadily, then smiled. The change of countenance brought Thorpe to himself, and at the same moment the words she had spoken reached his comprehension. “But I never received the letter. I'm so sorry,” said he. “It must be at the mill. You see, I've been up in the woods for nearly a month.” “Then we'll have to forgive you.” “But I should think they would have done something for you at the mill--” “Oh, we didn't come by way of your mill. We drove from Marquette.” “I see,” cried Thorpe, enlightened. “But I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm sorry you didn't let me know. I suppose you thought I was still at the mill. How did you get along? Is Wallace with you?” “No,” she replied, dropping her hands and straightening her erect figure. “It's horrid. He was coming, and then some business came up and he couldn't get away. We are having the loveliest time though. I do adore the woods. Come,” she cried impatiently, sweeping aside to leave a way clear, “you shall meet my friends.” Thorpe imagined she referred to the rest of the tenting party. He hesitated. “I am hardly in fit condition,” he objected. She laughed, parting her red lips. “You are extremely picturesque just as you are,” she said with rather embarrassing directness. “I wouldn't have you any different for the world. But my friends don't mind. They are used to it.” She laughed again.