"Yes," she continued. "I thought no one would be there, for I had not written to say what train I should take, but when I stepped down from the platform, you were standing there; though you didn't see me at first, not until I had called your name and ran to you. You said, 'I've come to meet you,' but you said it queerly, I thought. And then you called a carriage for me; but you seemed so strange you couldn't tell how you knew that I was coming, and--and then I--I understood you weren't yourself. You were very quiet, but I knew, I knew! So I made you get into the carriage--and--and--" She faltered to a stop, and with that, shame itself brought him courage; he turned and faced her. She had lifted her handkerchief to her eyes, but at his movement she dropped it, and it was not so much the delicate loveliness of her face that he saw then as the tears upon her cheeks. "Ah, poor boy!" she cried. "I knew! I knew!" "You--you took me home?" "You told me where you lived," she answered. "Yes, I took you home." "I don't understand," he stammered, huskily. "I don't understand!" She leaned toward him slightly, looking at him with great intentness. "You didn't know me last night," she said. "Do you know me now?" For answer he could only stare at her, dumfounded. He lifted an unsteady hand toward her appealingly. But the manner of the lady, as she saw the truth, underwent an April change. She drew back lightly; he was favored with the most delicious, low laugh he had ever heard, and, by some magic whisk which she accomplished, there was no sign of tears about her. "Ah! I'm glad you're the same, Joe!" she said. "You never would or could pretend very well. I'm glad you're the same, and I'm glad I've changed, though that isn't why you have forgotten me. You've forgotten me because you never thought of me. Perhaps I should not have known you if you had changed a great deal--as I have!" He started, leaning back from her. "Ah!" she laughed. "That's it! That funny little twist of the head you always had, like a--like a--well, you know I must have told you a thousand times that it was like a nice friendly puppy; so why shouldn't I say so now? And your eyebrows! When you look like that, nobody could ever forget you, Joe!" He rose from the log, and the mongrel leaped upon him uproariously, thinking they were to go home, belike to food. The lady laughed again. "Don't let him spoil my parasol. And I must warn you now: Never, never TREAD ON MY SKIRT! I'm very irritable about such things!"