Margaret looked up into his eyes--half seriously for a moment, as she stood by the proffered chair. "You are coming to dine with us while he's here," she said in her frank way. "Father says you must." Billy's embarrassment was evident. "That's really kind of him," he replied, "but don't you think I'd better wait until--" "There--you're going to refuse; I was half afraid you would. But you will come--won't you? Please, Mr. Holcomb!" She seated herself opposite him, resting her adorable little chin in her hands, her eyes again looking into his own. "I mean I'd rather your mother had asked me," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "I'm afraid Mrs. Thayor would be better pleased if I did not come, much as I'd like to." The brown eyes were lowered and the corners of the young mouth quivered; she lifted her head and he saw the eyes were dim with two big tears. "You'll come, won't you?" she faltered, trying hard to smile. He started to rise, looking helplessly about him as a man who casts about him for a remedy in an emergency. "There, I shouldn't have said what I did," he explained as she brushed away the tears. "I'm sorry--I didn't mean to hurt you." "You haven't hurt me," she said; "you couldn't." There was an awkward pause during which she buried her face in her dimpled brown hands. Holcomb breathed heavily. "You don't understand," she resumed bravely, trying to clear the quaver in her voice, "and it's so hard for me to explain--and I _want_ you to understand--about--mother, I mean. Mother is dreadfully rude to people at times--she is that way to nearly everyone whom she does not consider smart people." Her young voice grew steadier. "I mean whom she likes and are in her own set. It makes me feel so ashamed sometimes I could cry." "Come," coaxed Holcomb, "you mustn't feel badly about it. People are all different, anyway. It's just Mrs. Thayor's way, I suppose, just as it's your way, and your father's way, to be kind to everyone," he said tenderly. He saw the colour flush to her cheeks. "Mother has hurt you!" she cried indignantly. "I have seen it over and over again. Oh, why can't people be a little more considerate. It's not considered smart, I suppose. In society nearly everyone is rude to one another--some of them are perfectly nasty and they think nothing of saying horrid things about you behind your back! I hate New York," she exclaimed hotly; "I never knew what it was to be really happy until I came to Big Shanty and these dear old woods. You have had them all your life, so perhaps you can't understand what they mean to me--how much I love them, Mr. Holcomb." "They mean considerable to me," he replied. "They seem like home. I liked what I saw in New York, and I had a good time down there with Jack, but I know I'd get pretty tired of it if I had to live there in that noise."