They heard her steps, as she ran upstairs to her room, and the two Adamses looked at each other. “Daffy,” said Mrs. Adams. “A little touched, poor child. I believe she has run away from home or from her keepers. We’ll hear the truth soon. They’ll be looking for her.” “Perhaps,” said her husband, doubtfully. “But that isn’t the way I size her up. She’s nobody’s fool, that girl. Wish you’d seen her give Bob Tyler his comeuppance!” “What’d she say?” “’Twasn’t what she said, so much as the look she gave him! He almost went through the floor. Well, she says she’s a painter of scenery and landscapes. Let her stay a few days, till I size her up.” “You size her up!” returned his wife, with good-natured contempt. “If she smiles on you or gives you a bit of taffy-talk, you’ll size her up for an angel! I’m not so sure she isn’t quite the opposite!” Meanwhile the subject of their discussion was arraying herself for a walk. Equipped with storm boots and fur coat, she set out to inspect Corinth. A jaunty fur cap, with one long, red quill feather gave her still more the appearance of an elf or gnome, and many of the Adams house boarders watched the little figure as she set forth to brave the icy streets. Apparently she had no fixed plan of procedure, for at each corner, she looked about, and chose her course at random. The snow had ceased during the night, and it was very cold, with a clear sunshiny frostiness in the air that made the olive cheeks red and glowing. Reaching a bridge, she paused and stood looking over the slight railing into the frozen ravine below. Long she stood, until passers-by began to stare at her. She was unaware of this, absorbed in her thoughts and oblivious to all about her. Pinckney Payne, coming along, saw her, and, as he would have expressed it, fell for her at once. “Don’t do it, sister!” he said, pausing beside her. “Don’t end your young life on this glorious day! Suicide is a mess, at best. Take my advice and cut it out!” She turned, ready to freeze him with a glance more icy even than the landscape, but his frank, roguish smile disarmed her. “Freshman?” she said, patronizingly, but it didn’t abash him. “Yep. Pinckney Payne, if you must know. Commonly called Pinky.” “I don’t wonder,” and she noticed his red cheeks. “Well, now that you’re properly introduced, tell me some of the buildings. What’s that one?” “Dormitories. And that,” pointing, “is the church.” “Really! And that beautiful colonnade one?” “That’s Doctor Waring’s home. Him as is going to be next Prexy.” “And that? And that?” He replied to all her questions, and kept his eyes fastened on her bewitching face. Never had Pinky seen a girl just like this. She looked so young, so merry, and yet her restless, roving eyes seemed full of hidden fire and tempestuous excitement. “Where you from?” he said, abruptly. “Where you staying?” “At Mrs. Adams,” she returned, “is it a good house?”