would only associate with men who had sufficient brains not to grow
spooney over your pretty face."

As Ida and her mother passed out on the piazza, Van Berg joined
them and said:

"I am glad to see that you have so fully recovered, Miss Mayhew.
You prove again that you possess good strong nerves."

"Thank you," said the young lady, laconically, and with a sudden
accession of color.

"Mr. Van Berg," began Mrs. Mayhew with great animation, "I'm
excessively thankful that you happened to be on the road, and that
the stage overtook you this morning. It was so fortunate that
I almost think it providential. How dreadful it would have been
if Ida had been alone in such frightful peril! I cannot tell you
also how delighted I am that my daughter behaved so beautifully.
Indeed, I must confess that I am agreeably surprised, for Ida was
never famous for her courage. Your own manner must have inspired
confidence in her; and now that you have been so fortunately THROWN
TOGETHER, I trust you may be better friends in the future."

Miss Mayhew's rising color deepened into an intense scarlet, and,
as she turned away to hide her confusion, she could not forbear
shooting a wrathful glance at the artist. He had sufficient
self-control not to change a muscle, or to appear in the slightest
degree aware of the embarrassment caused by her mother's words,
and especially the use of the phrase--grown to be most hateful from
its associations--that so vividly recalled to the incensed maiden