Gusta stood a while and gazed on the river. On the farther shore its green banks rose high and rolled away with the imagination into woods and fields and farms. Here and there little cat-boats moved swiftly along, their sails white in the sun; some couples were out in rowboats. But as Gusta looked she suddenly became self-conscious; she saw that, of all the hundreds, she was the only one alone. Girls moved about, or stood and talked and giggled in groups, and every girl seemed to have some fellow with her. Gusta felt strange and out of place, and a little bitterness rose in her heart. The band swelled into a livelier, more strident strain, and Gusta resented this sudden burst of joyousness. She turned to go away, but just then she saw that a young man had stopped and was looking at her. He was a well-built young fellow, as strong as Archie; he had dark hair and a small mustache curled upward at the corners in a foreign way. His cheeks were ruddy; he carried a light cane and smoked a cigar. When he saw that Gusta had noticed him he smiled and Gusta blushed. Then he came up to her and took off his hat. "Are you taking a walk?" he asked. "I was going home," Gusta replied. She wondered how she could get away without hurting the young man’s feelings, for he seemed to be pleasant, harmless and well meaning. "It’s a fine day," he said. "There’s lots o’ people out." "Yes," said Gusta. "Where ’bouts do you live?" "On Bolt Street." "Oh, I live out that way myself!" said the young man. "It’s quite a ways from here. Been out to see some friends?" "Yes." Gusta hesitated. "I had an errand to do out this way." "Don’t you want to go in the park and see the zoo? There’s lots of funny animals back there." The young man pointed with his little cane down one of the gravel walks that wound among the trees. Gusta looked, and saw the people--young couples, women with children, and groups of young men, sauntering that way. Then she looked at the street-cars, loaded heavily, with passengers clinging to the running-boards; she was tempted to go, but it was growing late. "No, thanks," she said, "I must be going home now." "Are you going to walk or take the car?" asked the young man. "I’ll walk, I guess," she said; and then, lest he think she had no car fare, she added: "the cars are so crowded."