It was only a little time ago that Nancy's mother had lengthened her
little daughter's skirts from shoe tops to ankles. The line of the old
hem was still noticeable in some of her summer frocks. Just six months
since, Nancy had tucked up the bunch of curls into a Psyche knot and
transformed the ribbon bow into a velvet bandeau. Since she had been old
enough to go to parties she had had boy admirers who had said sweet
things to her. But this was quite different, and Nancy, almost eighteen,
and capable of looking after herself, felt suddenly frightened.

"I--I must hurry," she said, and turning she ran as fast as she could up
the garden path nearly colliding with Billie and Mary who had come to
look for her.

"Why, Nancy, you are chasing along like a scared rabbit," cried Billie.
"Has anything happened to you?"

"Oh, no. I thought we had better run because it was so late," she
answered breathlessly, while Yoritomo, following close behind, calm and
collected, bade them a formal good night and hurried over to the summer
house to pay his respects to Miss Campbell and her cousin.

Nancy decided that night not to tell Billie, her intimate confidante,
what the Japanese had said to her. The walls were too thin, she thought.
Besides, she was curious to know if Yoritomo would be on the bridge the
next afternoon. Just how she intended to find this out, she had not
then decided.