In the midst of these many bits of enjoyed information, Nita’s mother returned, and Nathalie in a moment was dazedly bowing to the tall gentleman, whom her friend presented as Dr. Gilmour. “He is the surgeon, Nathalie,” she added smilingly, “whom you came after. As he is a very old friend of mine, and a good American to boot,” she nodded at the gentleman, “he has consented to go with you up the mountain to see your Son of Liberty, as you call him.” “Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad!” burst from the girl with a joy-thrilled voice. “And, oh, I thank you so much; it is so kind of you,” she added with misty eyes, turning impulsively towards the physician. But the big man, with an amused smile in his keen gray eyes, patted her on the shoulder as he said, “My little lady, I think that every true American should stand ready to do anything to help any man, or boy, who has been brave enough to face those fiendish Huns.” “Oh, I think so, too,” cried the relieved girl, a wave of color flushing her cheeks, “and I think it must have been that thought that gave me the courage to come and ask you.” “Oh, isn’t it just dandy!” enthused Nita, as Dr. Gilmour hurried away to get his little black case, while Nathalie led her friend down the steps of the veranda to where three little figures sat patiently waiting for her on the tower-steps. But the girl’s eyes widened as she suddenly perceived that they were not alone, for a brown-clad figure with soldierly bearing, but with a golf-bag slung over his shoulder, with one foot on the steps, was bending down and talking to the children. And then a sudden thrill stirred her as she recognized the soldier lad who had helped her down the foot-bridge that day at the Flume, and who had so kindly taken Jean to see the cascade. As Nathalie reached the children, she became embarrassed, as she suddenly realized that she did not know the name of the young soldier. But her embarrassment was momentary, as Nita called out merrily, “Hello, Van. Is _that_ what you are doing, making love to the kiddies? I thought you were going to play golf.” “That was my intention,” replied the boy, straightening up and lifting his hat, and then his dark blue eyes brightened quickly, as he perceived Nita’s companion. Nathalie was now introduced to Mr. Van Darrell, the son of a friend of Nita’s mother, and then the little group were chatting merrily as they waited for Dr. Gilmour, and Mrs. Van Vorst, who had gone to order the car to take them to the foot of the Trail that led to the top of Garnet Mountain. All at once young Darrell turned towards Nathalie as he said, “But, Miss Page, have we not met before? Were you not one of the girls at Camp Mills one day last month, who asked a party of us if we did not want some cherries? And then, if I remember rightly, we all helped you to gather up the fruit after you had knocked the basket from the car.”