"I am unfortunate in one respect," he said, "in that I have no fixed occupation. My father, now dead, was a prominent physician. I was educated for the same profession and had just begun its practice when he died. An uncle also left me a large bequest at about the same time. My mother insisted that I give up practice, and now I am an enforced idler." He was such an entirely new specimen of manhood, so charming of manner, so smooth of speech, that Chip watched and listened while he talked on and on, quite enthralled. She had seen similar gentlemen pass and repass Tim's Place, not quite so dainty and suave, perhaps, but dressed much the same. She had now and then noticed a pictured reproduction of one in some magazine. Insensibly, she compared this Mr. Goodnow with Ray, to the latter's discredit, and when the evening was ended and she was alone in her room, this new arrival's delicately chiselled face, smiling blue eyes, slightly curled mustache, and refined manners followed her. "He's a purty slick talker," Uncle Jud admitted to his wife later on, "a sorter chinaware, pictur-book feller 'thout much harm in him. I kinder felt sorry for him, so I 'lowed we'd keep him over night. Guess he ain't much use in the world." How little use and how much harm he was capable of may be gleaned from a brief resume of this stranger's history. He was, as he stated, without occupation and with plenty of money. He also, as stated, loved trout brooks and wildwood life--not wildwood life in its true sense, but the summer-day kind, where, clad as he was, he could follow some meadow brook or sit in the shade and watch it while indulging in day-dreams and smoking. He loved these things, but he loved fair ladies--collectively--still more. He had stumbled upon Peaceful Valley by accident, coming to it from a fashionable resort to escape an intrigue with a foolish _grande dame_ and consequent irate husband. Chip's face and form had caught his eyes as he strolled by that day, and admission to the home of Uncle Jud and opportunity to meet, and, if possible, impress this handsome country lass, had been a matter of shrewd calculation with him. He had purposely remained up the brook until nightfall. He watched for and intercepted Uncle Jud in the nick of time, persuaded that confiding man that he was too tired to reach the village, and with all the blandishments of speech at his command, had obtained entry to this home. But he failed to impress Chip as he had hoped. She was no fool, if she had been reared at Tim's Place. A certain shiftiness in his eyes when he looked at her, a covert, sideways glance, never firm but ever elusive, was soon noted and awoke her suspicion. Then the glib story he had told of himself was soon contradicted by him in a few minor details. Like all liars, he lacked a perfect memory, and, talking freely, he occasionally crossed his own tracks.