"I wonder now," he meditated aloud, "if William is not thinking of some particular young lady who--er--who 'cannot leave her mother'." If he had only known it, William was; he was also wondering whether she would be at the picnic.

And if she were at the picnic, would she remember him?
He had only seen her that one night--and to him it seemed a very long while ago.

He thought, however, that he might be able to recall himself to her mind--supposing she had forgotten.

It was a long time ago, he kept reminding himself, and the light was poor and he hadn't shaved for a week--he had always afterward realized that with much mental discomfort--and he really did look a lot different when he had on his "war-togs," by which he meant his best clothes.

He wouldn't blame her at all if she passed him up for a stranger, just at first.