changed to a startled, blushing girl, and in swift sequence Andrew's rapt gaze altered to one not altogether without daring. 

 "Oh, so I see," she half gasped, then laughed outright, looking at him with shy eyes, but mutinously curving lips. The laugh robbed the scene of its last illusion of mystery. 

 Andrew advanced, raising his old felt hat with an instinct of deference that made the commonplace courtesy charming. 

 "I hope I didn't scare you," he said; "but I was working in a field near here yesterday and heard you singing. To-day I made up my mind to find you. Do you mind?" 

 "Do you know who I am?" she asked. 

 "No," he answered; "but I suspect you are the 'Boarder up at old Mis' Morris's.'" 

 "Oh, so a rumour has gone abroad in the land? Yes, I am the boarder; one would think a boarder was a kind of animal." 

 "Yes," assented Andrew.  "Old Sam Symmons said he wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman." 

 "I won't be called an 'It'; my name is Judith Moore." 

 "How do you do, Miss Judith Moore. My name is Andrew Cutler." 

 He had come close to her by this time, and as he looked down upon her he began to feel an irritating sense of shyness creep over him. She was such a fantastic little figure in his eyes. And what a queer frock she had on! Surely on any one else it would be horrid. It didn't look so bad on her, though; and what a belt for her to wear, this great burden of metal—a flexible band of silver with, it seemed to him, dozens of silver ornaments hanging to it by chains of varying lengths! What nonsense! It seemed to weigh her down.  (Andrew was not up in chatelaines.)  Then her feet! But here his masculine horse sense and the instinct of protection which had awakened in him at the first startled look from her big wide eyes, made him overstep all polite bounds and render himself odious to Miss Moore. 

 "Why in the world do you wear shoes like these?" he asked.  "And such stockings! and standing on that damp moss! You had better go right into the house and get on decently heavy shoes." 

 This was too much. Miss Judith Moore fancied her own feet, and fancied open-work silk 

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