"Of course," she explained apologetically, "of course I haven't found a lot of things yet--I've only been working at it a little while. But I've collected a 'Runaway Accident with the Rural Free-Delivery Man.' It was awfully scary and interesting. And I've collected a 'Den of Little Foxes Down in the Woods Back of My House,' and 'Two Sunrises with a Crazy Woman who Thinks that the Sun Can't Get Up Until She Does,' and I've collected a 'Country Camp-Meeting all Hallelujahs and By Goshes,' and a 'Circus Where I Spent All Day with the Snake-Charmer,' and a 'Midnight Ride Alone through the Rosedale Woods in a Thunder-Storm.' Of course, as I say, I haven't found a lot of things yet, but then it's only the middle of June and I have two more weeks' vacation yet." The Man put back his head and laughed, but it was a pleasant sort of laugh that flooded all the stern lines in his face. "I'm sure I never thought of making a regular business of collecting adventures," he admitted, "but it certainly is a splendid idea. But aren't you ever afraid?" he asked. "Aren't you ever afraid, for instance, riding round on a lonesome trip like this?" The Girl laughed. "Yes," she acknowledged, "I'm often afraid of--squirrels--and falling twigs--and black-looking stumps. I'm often afraid of toy noises and toy fears--but I never saw a real fear in all my life. Even when you jumped up in the Road I wasn't afraid of you--because you are a gentleman--and--gentlemen are my friends." "Have you many friends?" asked the Man. The question seemed amusingly justifiable. "You look to me about eighteen. Girls of your age are usually too busy collecting Love to collect anything else--even ideas. Have you collected any Love?" The Girl threw out her hands in joking protest. "Collected any Love? Why, I don't even know what Love looks like! Maybe what I'd collect would be--poison ivy." Her eyes narrowed a little. Her voice quivered the merest trifle. "There's a Boy at Home--who talks--a little--about it. But how can I tell that it's Love?" Her sudden vehemency startled him. "Where _is_ 'Home'?" he asked. For immediate answer the Girl slipped down from the White Pony's back, and loosened the saddle creakingly before she helped herself to a long, dripping draught from the birch cup that hung just over the spring. "You're nice to talk to," she acknowledged, "and almost no one is nice to talk to. It's a whole year since I've talked right out to any one! Where do I live? Well, my headquarters are in New York, but my heartquarters are over at Rosedale. There's quite a difference, you know!" "Yes," said the Man, "I remember--there used to--be--quite a difference. But how did you ever happen to think of collecting adventures?" The girl pulled at the White Pony's mane for a long, hesitating moment, then she turned and looked searchingly into the Man's face. She very evidently liked what she saw.