Sammy had finished washing the dinner dishes, and was putting things in order about the house, when she stopped suddenly before the little shelf that held her books. Then, with a smile, she carried them every one into her own room, placing them carefully where they could not be seen from the open door. Going next to the mirror, she deliberately took down her hair, and arranged it in the old careless way that Ollie had always known. “You’re just the same backwoods girl, Sammy Lane, so far as outside things go,” she said to the face in the glass; “but you are not quite the same all the way through. We’ll see if he—” She was interrupted by the loud barking of the dog outside, and her heart beat more quickly as a voice cried, “Hello, hello, I say; call off your dog!” Sammy hurried to the door. A strange gentleman stood at the gate. The strangest gentleman that Sammy had ever seen. Surely this could not be Ollie Stewart; this slender, pale-faced man, with faultless linen, well gloved hands and shining patent leathers. The girl drew back in embarrassment. But there was no hesitation on the part of the young man. Before she could recover from her astonishment, he caught her in his arms and kissed her again and again, until she struggled from his embrace. “You—you must not,” she gasped. “Why not?” he demanded laughingly. “Has anyone a better right? I have waited a long while for this, and I mean to make up now for lost time.” He took a step toward her again, but Sammy held him off at arm’s length, as she repeated, “No—no—you must not; not now.” Young Stewart was helpless. And the discovery that she was stronger than this man brought to the girl a strange feeling, as of shame. “How strong you are,” he said petulantly; ceasing his efforts. Then carefully surveying the splendidly proportioned and developed young woman, he added, “And how beautiful!” Under his look, Sammy’s face flushed painfully, even to her neck and brow; and the man, seeing her confusion, laughed again. Then, seating himself in the only rocking-chair in the room, the young gentleman leisurely removed his gloves, looking around the while with an amused expression on his face, while the girl stood watching him. At last, he said impatiently, “Sit down, sit down, Sammy. You look at me as if I were a ghost.” Unconsciously, she slipped into the speech of the old days, “You sure don’t look much like you used to. I never see nobody wear such clothes as them. Not even Dad Howitt, when he first come. Do you wear ’em every day?” Ollie frowned; “You’re just like all the rest, Sammy. Why don’t you talk as you write? You’ve improved a lot in your letters. If you talk like that in the city; people will know in a minute that you are from the country.” At this, Sammy rallied her scattered wits, and the wide, questioning look was in her eyes, as she replied quietly, “Thank you. I’ll try to remember. But tell me, please, what harm could it do, if people did know I came from the country?”