I had been at work six days. I was a good young man, and I would not dig on Sunday, as some of the fellows did. I sat in the door of my little hut, and read an old newspaper, and thought of those far-away days when I used to be afraid of the girls. How glad I felt that I was outgrowing that folly. A shadow fell across my paper, and I glanced up. Thunder out of a clear sky could not so have astonished me. There stood a young lady, smiling at me! None of those rough Western pioneer girls, either, but a pale, delicate, beautiful young lady, about eighteen, with cheeks like wild roses, so faintly, softly flushed with the fatigue of climbing, and great starry hazel eyes, and dressed in a fashionable traveling suit, made up in the latest style. "Pardon me, sir, for startling you so," she said, pleasantly. "Can you give me a drink of water? I have been climbing until I am thirsty. Papa is not far behind, around the rock there. I out-climbed him, you see--as I told him I could!" and she laughed like an angel. Yes! it was splendid to find how I had improved! I jumped to my feet and made a low bow. I wasn't red in the face--I wasn't confused--I didn't stammer; I felt as cool as I do this moment, as I answered her courteously: "Cer-cer-certainly, madam--miss, I mean--you shall have a spring fresh from me--a drink, I mean--we've a nice, cold spring in the rocks just behind the cabin; I'll get you one in a second." "No such _great_ hurry, sir"--another smile. I dashed inside and brought a tin cup--my only goblet--hurried to the spring, and brought her the sparkling draught, saying, as I handed it to her: "You must excuse the din tipper, miss." She took it politely! and began to quaff, but from some reason she choked and choked, and finally shook so, that she spilled the water all over the front breadth of her gray-check silk. She was laughing at my "din tipper," just as if the calmest people did not sometimes get the first letters of their words mixed up.