his lips, for in the place of
two tatterdemalion boys he saw a young girl holding his line limply and
smiling with much nervousness.

"Oh," he cried, and then became dumb and confused. He was shy and
unhappy with women, save the few whom he had known from childhood. The
girl was no better. She had blushed deeply, and was now minutely
scanning the stones in the burn. Then she raised her eyes, met his, and
the difficulty was solved by both falling into fits of deep laughter.
She was the first to speak.

"I am so sorry I surprised you. I did not see you till I was close to
you, and then you were abusing somebody so terribly that to stop such
language I had to stop and help you. I saw Tam and Jock at a pool a
long way down, so they couldn't hear you, you know."

"And I'm very much obliged to you. You held it far better than Tam or
Jock would have done. But how did you get up here?"

"I climbed up the burn," said Alice simply, putting up a hand to confine
a wandering tress. The young man saw a small, very simply dressed girl,
with a flushed face and bright, deep eyes. The small white hat crowned
a great tangle of wonderful reddish gold hair. She held herself with
the grace which is born of natural health and no modish training; the
strong hazel stick, the scratched shoes, and the wet fringes of her gown
showed how she had spent the afternoon. The young man, having received
an excellent education, thought of Dryads and Oreads.

Alice for her part saw a strong, well-knit being, with a brown,
clean-shaven face, a straight nose, and a delicate, humorous mouth. He
had large grey eyes, very keen, quizzical, and kindly. His raiment was
disgraceful--an old knickerbocker suit with a ruinous Norfolk jacket,
patched at the elbows and with leather at wrist and shoulder.
Apparently he scorned the June sun, for he had no cap. His pockets
seemed bursting with tackle, and a discarded basket lay on the ground.
The whole figure pleased her, its rude health, simplicity, and disorder.
The atrocious men who sometimes came to her father's house had been
miracles of neatness, and Mr. Stocks was wont to robe his person in the
most faultless of shooting suits.

A fugitive memory began to haunt the girl. She had met or heard of this
man before. The valley was divided between Glenavelin and Etterick. He
was not the Doctor, and he was not the minister. Might not he be that
Lewie, the well-beloved, whose praises she had heard consistently sung
si