Ellen, when he looked from her grandmother back at her, thought him almost a man, and then she saw that he was the boy who had brought the chestnuts to her the night when she had returned from her runaway excursion.

The boy recognized her at the same moment, and his mouth seemed to gape wider, and a moist red overspread his face down to his swathing woollen scarf.

Then he gave another whoop significant of the extreme of nervous abashedness and the incipient defiance of his masculine estate, there was a flourish of heels, followed by a swift glimmering slide of steel, and he was off trailing his sled.
"That's that Joy boy that brought Ellen the chestnuts that time," Fanny said.

"Do you remember him, Ellen ?" "Yes, ma'am," replied Ellen.

The look of the boy in her face had bewildered and confused her, without her knowing the why of it.