and he thought he saw her start slightly, but he lowered his eyes and hurried
away.

It was only a few days later that, going up from town toward the campus, he
turned a corner and there was Margaret alone and moving slowly ahead of him.
Hearing his steps she turned her head to see who it was, but Chad kept his
eyes on the ground and passed her without looking up. And thus he went on,
although she was close behind him, across the street and to the turnstile. As
he was passing through, a voice rose behind him:

"You aren't very polite, little boy." He turned quickly--Margaret had not
gone around the corner: she, too, was coming through the campus and there she
stood, grave and demure, though her eyes were dancing.

"My mamma says a NICE little boy always lets a little GIRL go FIRST."

"I didn't know you was comin' through."

"Was comin' through!" Margaret made a little face as though to say--"Oh,
dear."

"I said I didn't know you were coming through this way."

Margaret shook her head. "No," she said; "no, you didn't."

"Well, that's what I meant to say." Chad was having a hard time with his
English. He had snatched his cap from his head, had stepped back outside the
stile and was waiting to turn it for her. Margaret passed through and waited
where the paths forked.