"Can you help put my daughter into the carriage ?" Mrs.
Yorke looked at the driver, a stolid colored man, who was surly over having had to drive his horses so hard.
Before the man could answer, Gordon stepped forward, and, stooping, lifted the girl, and quietly put her up into the vehicle.

She simply smiled and said, "Thank you," quite as if she were accustomed to being lifted into carriages by strange young men whom she had just met on the roadside.
Mrs.Yorke's eyes opened wide.
"How strong you must be!" she exclaimed, with a woman's admiration for physical strength.
Keith bowed, and, with a flush mounting to his cheeks, backed a little away.
"Oh, he has often lifted sacks of salt," said the girl, half turning her eyes on Keith with a gleam of satisfaction in them.
Mrs.Yorke looked at her in astonishment.
"Why, Alice!" she exclaimed reprovingly under her breath.
"He told me so himself," asserted the girl, defiantly.
"I may have to do so again," said Keith, dryly.
Mrs.Yorke's hand went toward the region of her pocket, but uncertainly; for she was not quite sure what he was.

His face and air belied his shabby dress.

A closer look than she had given him caused her to stop with a start.
"Mr .-- ah-- ?" After trying to recall the name, she gave it up.

"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness to my daughter," she began.