In her soft, loose-fitting linen dress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red roses, and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and every passer-by--with the exception of one old farmer and he was half blind--turned to look at this good-looking girl, a stranger in those parts and whose stylish appearance suggested Fifth Avenue rather than the commonplace purlieus of Massapequa.
Every now and then Shirley espied in the distance the figure of a man which she thought she recognized as that of Jefferson.

Had he come, after all?
The blood went coursing tumultuously through her veins only a moment later to leave her face a shade paler as the man came nearer and she saw he was a stranger.

She wondered what he was doing, if he gave her a thought, if he had spoken to his father and what the latter had said.

She could realize now what Mr.Ryder's reply had been.

Then she wondered what her future life would be.