ur."

The stranger laughed. She was charming.

"He ought to ride well; I taught him." But the gay smile which
followed this statement robbed it of its air of conceit. "You see, I
have ridden part of my life on the great plains of the West, and have
mounted everything from a wild Indian pony to an English thoroughbred.
My name is Max Scharfenstein, and I am here as a medical student,
though in my own country I have the right to hang out a physician's
shingle."

She drew aimless figures in the dust with her riding-crop. There was
no sense in her giving any name. Probably they would never meet again.
And yet--

"I am Hildegarde von--von Heideloff," giving her mother's name. He was
too nice to frighten away.

The hesitance over the "von" did not strike his usually keen ear. He
was too intent on noting the variant expressions on her exquisite face.
It was a pity she was dark. What a figure, and how proudly the head
rested upon the slender but firm white throat! After all, black eyes,
such as these were, might easily rival any blue eyes he had ever seen.
(Which goes to prove that a man's ideals are not built as solidly as
might be.)

"It is rather unusual," he said, "to see a woman ride so early; but you
have the right idea. Everything begins to wake, life, the air, the
day. There is something in the dew of the morning that is a better
tonic than any doctor can brew."

"Take care! If you have no confidence in your wares, you must not
expect your patients to have."

"Oh, I am a doctor of philosophy, also."

"That is to say," she observed, "if you lose your patients, you will
accept their loss without a murmur? Very good. May I ask what you
have come so far to study?"

"Nerves."

"Is it possible!"--with a smile as fleet as the wind.

He laughed. This was almost like an American girl. How easy it was to
talk to her! He tried again to catch her eye, but failed. Then both
looked out over the lake, mutually consenting that a pause should
ensue. He did not mind the dark hair at all.

"Do you speak English?" she asked abruptly in that tongue, with a full
glance to note the effect.

"English is spoken to some extent in the United States," he answered
gravely. He did not evince the least surprise at her fluency.

"Do you write to the humorous papers in your country?"

"Only to subscribe for them," said he.

And again they laughed; which was a very good sign that things were
going forward tole