Nelson Haley, coming out of the new graded school, of which he was the very capable and unusually beloved principal, owned this particular pair of eyes. He hastened his steps to the corner of the cross street on which the schoolhouse stood and overtook the girl. "Going right by without noticing me, I presume?" he said, lifting his hat, a frank smile upon his very youthful countenance. "Of course, Nelson," she said, giving him her hand for a moment and gazing directly into his earnest eyes. That touch and look thrilled them both. Nelson dropped into step with her and they went on down the hill for several moments in a silence which, to these two who knew each other so well, suggested a more certain understanding than speech. It was Nelson who said as they turned into High Street: "What meaneth the smile, Janice? What is the immediate thought in that demure head of yours? Something amusing, I'm sure." Janice laughed outright, flashing him an elfish glance. "I was thinking of something." "Of course. Out with it," he told her. "Confession is good for the soul and removes the tantalizing element of curiosity." "Oh, it's not a matter for the confessional. I was just remembering a certain person who arrived in this town not much more than three years ago, and how different she was then--and how different the town!--from the present." "I acknowledge the immense change which has come over the town; but you, my dear, in your nature and character are as changeless as the hills--even as the Green Mountains of old Vermont." "Why! I don't know whether that is a compliment or not, Nelson," she cried. "Daddy says the man who doesn't change his politics and his religious outlook in twenty years is dead. They have merely neglected to bury him." "The fundamentals cannot change," the philosophical young schoolmaster observed. "You have developed, dear girl; but the bud that is blossoming into the flower of your womanhood was curled in the leaf of your character when you first looked at Polktown from the deck of the old _Constance Colfax_." "Why, Nelson! that is almost poetical," she said, glancing at him again as they walked side by side toward the dock at the foot of Polktown's principal business thoroughfare. "And whether it is poetry or not I like it," she added, dimpling again. "Oh, my _dear_! how different the place looked that day from what it is now. Why, it was only known as _Poketown_! And it was the pokiest, most rubbishy, lackadaisical village I ever saw. Just think of its original name being lost by years of careless pronunciation! The people had even forgotten that sterling old patriot, Hubbard Polk, who first settled here and defied the 'Yorkers.'" Janice laughed with a reflective note in her voice. "Why, when they cleaned up the town---- Will you _ever_ forget Polktown's first Clean-Up Day, Nelson?" "Never," chuckled the young man. "Such a shaking up of the dry bones, both literal and metaphorical!"