other young man, this gentleman in his light summer clothes, who bore about him no stain nor odor of toil, he felt that here was Ellen’s mate; that he was left behind.  He looked at him, not missing a detail of his superiority, and he saw himself young and not ill-looking, but hopelessly common, clad in awkward clothes; he smelled the smell of leather that steamed up in his face from his raiment and his body; and he looked at Ellen, fair and white in her dainty muslin, and saw himself thrust aside, as it were, by his own judgment as to the fitness of things, but with no less bitterness.  When he said “there are so many of us,” he felt the impulse of revolution in his heart; that he would have liked to lead the “many of us” against this young aristocrat.  But Robert smiled, though somewhat stiffly, and bowed.  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Joy,” he said; “I do remember, but for a minute I did not.”

“I don’t wonder,” said Granville, and again he repeated, “There are so many of us,” in that sullen, bitter tone.

“What is the matter with the fellow?” thought Robert; but he said, civilly enough; “Oh, not at all, Mr. Joy.  I will admit there are a good many of you, as you say, but that would not prevent my remembering a man to whom I was speaking only a few hours ago.  It was only the half-light, and I did not expect to see you here.”

“Mr. Joy is a very old friend of mine,” Ellen said, quickly, with a painful impulse of loyalty.  The moment she saw her old school-boy lover intimidated, and manifestly at a disadvantage before this elegant young gentleman, she felt a fierce instinct of partisanship.  She stood a little nearer to him.  Granville’s face lightened, he looked at her gratefully, and Robert stared from one to the other doubtfully.  He began to wonder if he had interrupted a love-scene, and was at once pained with a curious, new pain, and indignant.  Then, too, he scarcely knew what to do.  He had been sent to ask Ellen to come into the parlor.

“My aunt is in the house,” he said.

“Your aunt?”

“Yes, my aunt, Miss Lennox.”

Ellen gave a great start, and stared at him.  “Does she want to see me?” she asked, abruptly.

Robert glanced at Granville.  He was afraid of being rude towards this possible lover, but the young man was quick to perceive the situation.

“I guess I must be going,” he said to Ellen.

“Must you hurry?” she returned, in the common, polite rejoinder of her class in Rowe.

“Yes, I guess I must,” said Granville.  He held out his hand towards Ellen, then drew it away, but she extended hers resolutely, and so forced his back again.  “Good-night,” she said, kindly, almost tenderly, and again Robert thought with that sinking at his heart that here was quite possibly the girl’s lover, and all his dreams were thrown away.

As for Granville, he glowed with a sudden triumph over the other.  Again he became almost sure that Ellen loved him after all, that it was only her maiden shyness which had led her to refuse him.  He pressed her hand hard, and held it as long as he dared; then he turned to Robert.  “I’ll bid you good-evening, sir,” he said, with awkward dignity, and was gone.