Here was Lawrence Prescott, about whom she had dreamed ever since she was a child, come home, grown up and grand, grander than any young man in town, grand as a prince, and not forgetting her, knowing her at a glance, even when her face was hidden, and making her ride lest she get over-tired.

She had scarcely seen him, to speak to him, since she was sixteen.

Doctor Prescott had kept his son very close when he was home on his vacations, and not allowed him to mingle much with the village young people.

That summer when Elmira was sixteen there had been company in the doctor's house, and she had been summoned to assist in the extra work.

Somehow time had hung idly on young Lawrence's hands that summer; the guests in the house were staid elderly folk and no company for him.