come and
see us."

"Ah, heart o' mine, what clear, pure eyes she has! How they look at a
man to drown his soul!"

Which, even had it been spoken, was hardly the comment one would have
expected.

The girl looked at him for a moment steadily, then smiled. The change of
countenance brought Thorpe to himself, and at the same moment the words
she had spoken reached his comprehension.

"But I never received the letter. I'm so sorry," said he. "It must be at
the mill. You see, I've been up in the woods for nearly a month."

"Then we'll have to forgive you."

"But I should think they would have done something for you at the
mill--"

"Oh, we didn't come by way of your mill. We drove from Marquette."

"I see," cried Thorpe, enlightened. "But I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm
sorry you didn't let me know. I suppose you thought I was still at the
mill. How did you get along? Is Wallace with you?"

"No," she replied, dropping her hands and straightening her erect
figure. "It's horrid. He was coming, and then some business came up
and he couldn't get away. We are having the loveliest time though. I do
adore the woods. Come," she cried impatiently, sweeping aside to leave a
way clear, "you shall meet my friends."

Thorpe imagined she referred to the rest of the tenting party. He
hesitated.

"I am hardly in fit condition," he objected.

She laughed, parting her red lips. "You are extremely picturesque just
as you are," she said with rather embarrassing directness. "I wouldn't
have you any different for the world. But my friends don't mind. They
are used to it." She laughed again.

Thorpe crossed the pole trail, and for the first time found himself by
her side. The warm summer odors were in the air, a dozen lively
little birds sang in the brush along the rail, the sunlight danced and
flickered through the openings.

Then suddenly they were among the pines, and the air was cool, the vista
dim, and the bird songs inconceivably far away.

The girl walked directly to the foot of a pine three feet through, and
soaring up an inconceivable distance through the still twilight.

"This is Jimmy," said she gravely. "He is a dear good old rough bear
when you don't know him, but he likes me. If you put your ear close
against him," she confided, suiting the action to the word, "you can
hear him talking to himself. This little fellow is Tommy. I don't care
so much for Tommy because he's sticky. Still, I like him pretty well,
and here'