"I like ye 'round me all the time, girlie," he assured her, "for ye're the best o' company, 'n' I'd rather see yer face'n' any posy that ever grew. But you've got to quit workin' so much in the sun. 'Twill get yer hands all calloused 'n' face freckled, an' I won't have it. I want ye to injie yourself, read books, pick flowers, 'n' sit in the shade. I see ye've got into the habit o' workin', which ain't a bad 'un, but thar ain't no need on't here." One day a stranger happened up this valley, so seldom travelled that its roadway ruts were obscured by grass. Chip noticed him that morning where the brook curved almost to the garden, a fair-haired young man with jaunty straw hat, delicate, shining rod, and new fish basket. He was garbed in a spick-span brown linen suit. He saw her also, looking over the garden wall, and raising his hat gracefully, strode on. His appearance, so neat and dainty and so like pictures of fishermen in books, his courteous manner of touching his hat, without a rude stare or even a second glance at her, caught her attention, and she watched him a few moments. He did not look back until he had cast his line into a few eddies some twenty rods away; and then he turned, looked at her, the house, barns, garden, all as one picture, and then continued up the brook. He was not seen again until almost twilight by her, and then he and Uncle Jud entered the sitting room. "This is Mr. Goodnow, Mandy," Uncle Jud explained, nodding to the newcomer and glancing at Aunt Mandy and Chip. "He says he follered the brook further up'n he figgered on. It's four miles to the Corners, 'n' he wants us to keep him over night. I 'lowed we could, if you was willin'." "I shall be most grateful if you kind ladies will permit my intrusion," the stranger added. "I have been so captivated by this delightful brook that I quite forgot where I was or the distance to the village until I saw that the sun was setting. If you can take care of me until morning, any payment you will accept shall be yours." "I guess we can 'commodate ye," responded Aunt Mandy, pleasantly. And so this modern Don Juan found lodgement in the home of these people. "I am an enthusiast on trout-catching," he explained, after all had gathered on the vine-enclosed porch and he had presented Uncle Jud with an excellent cigar. "About all I do summers is to hunt for brooks. I came to the village below here yesterday, having heard of this stream, and never before have I found one quite so attractive." Then followed a more or less fictitious account of his own station and occupation in life, all very plausible, entirely frank, and quite convincing.