The whole party turned with one accord, a good deal of amazement in their eyes, as there had not been a sign of life in the road a moment before, and now here was a sort of woodland sprite, a “nut-brown mayde,” with a remarkably sweet voice.

“I beg your pardon, but can you tell me the way to Professor Salazar’s house?  Why” (this with a charming smile and expression as of one having found an angel of deliverance),—­“why, it is—­is n’t it?—­Edgar Noble of Santa Barbara!”

Edgar, murmuring “Polly Oliver, by Jove!” lifted his hat at once, and saying, “Excuse me, boys,” turned back and, gallantly walked at Polly’s side.

“Why, Miss Polly, this is an unexpected way of meeting you!”

("Very unexpected,” thought Polly.) “Is it not, indeed?  I wrote you a note the other day, telling you that we hoped to see you soon in San Francisco.”

“Yes,” said Edgar; “I did n’t answer it because I intended to present myself in person to-morrow or Sunday.  What are you doing in this vicinity?” he continued, “or, to put it poetically,

  “Pray why are you loitering here, pretty maid?”

“No wonder you ask.  I am ‘floundering,’ at present.  I came over to a Spanish lesson at Professor Salazar’s, and I have quite lost my way.  If you will be kind enough to put me on the right road I shall be very much obliged, though I don’t like to keep you from your friends,” said Polly, with a quizzical smile.  “You see the professor won’t know why I missed my appointment, and I can’t bear to let him think me capable of neglect; he has been so very kind.”

“But you can’t walk there.  You must have gotten off at the wrong station; it is quite a mile, even across the fields.”

“And what is a mile, sir?  Have you forgotten that I am a country girl?” and she smiled up at him brightly, with a look that challenged remembrance.

“I remember that you could walk with any of us,” said Edgar, thinking how the freckles had disappeared from Polly’s rose-leaf skin, and how particularly fetching she looked in her brown felt sailor-hat.  “Well, if you really wish to go there, I ’ll see you safely to the house and take you over to San Francisco afterward, as it will be almost dark.  I was going over, at any rate, and one train earlier or later won’t make any difference.”

("Perhaps it won’t and perhaps it will,” thought Polly.) “If you are sure it won’t be too much trouble, then”—­

“Not a bit.  Excuse me a moment while I run back and explain the matter to the boys.”

The boys did not require any elaborate explanation.

Oh, the power of a winsome face!  No better than many other good things, but surely one of them, and when it is united to a fair amount of goodness, something to be devoutly thankful for.  It is to be feared that if a lumpish, dumpish sort of girl (good as gold, you know, but not suitable for occasions when a fellow’s will has to be caught “on the fly,” and held until it settles to its work),—­if that lumpish, dumpish girl had asked the way to Professor Salazar’s house, Edgar Noble would have led her courteously to the turn of the road, lifted his hat, and wished her a pleasant journey.