After the bi-weekly French lesson, as I have said, the two friends used to come back together in the river-boat at five o’clock.  And by this boat there always came two boys by the name of Courtney, and a third boy, Aldith’s particular property, James Graham.  Now the young people had become known to each other at picnics and the like in the neighbourhood, but the acquaintance, instead of ripening on frequent meeting into a frank, pleasant friendship, had taken the turn of secrecy and silly playing at love.  James Graham was in a lawyer’s office, a young articled cleric of seventeen in undue haste to be that delightful thing, a man.  He carried a cane, and was very particular about his hat and necktie and his boots, which generally were tan.  And he had the faintest possible moustache, that he caressed with great frequency; and that privately Aldith thought adorable.  Aldith’s pert, sprightly manner pleased him, and in a very short time they had got to the period of passing notes into each other’s hands and sighing sentimentally.  Not that the notes contained much harm, they were generally of rather a formal character.

“My dear’ Miss MacCarthy,” one would run—­

“Why were you not on the boat yesterday?  I looked for you till it was no use looking longer, and then the journey was blank.  How charmingly that big hat suits you, and those jonquils at your neck.  Might l beg one of the flowers? just one, please, Aldith.

Your devoted friend,
James Graham.”

And Aldith’s, written on a sheet of her note-book with a pink programme pencil that she always kept in her purse, might be no worse than: 

“Dear Mr. Graham, “What ever can you want these flowers at my neck for?  They have been there all day, and are dead and spoiled.  I can’t imagine what good they’ll be to you.  Still, of course, if you really care for them you shall have them.  I am so glad you like this hat.  I shall always like it now.  Did you really miss me yesterday?  I had gone to have my photo taken.  Marguerite thinks it very good indeed, but I am sure it flatters me too much.

Yours truly,
L. Aldith Evelyn MacCarthy.”

Now Mr. James Graham had a great friend in one of the before-mentioned Courtney boys, Andrew by name.  He was a handsome lad of eighteen, still a schoolboy, but possessed of fascinating manners and a pair of really beautiful eyes.

And, since his friend and companion Jim had taken to “having fun” with “the girl MacCarthy,” he objected to being left out in the cold.  So he began to pay marked attentions to Meg, who blushed right up to her soft, pretty fringe every time he spoke to her, and looked painfully conscious and guilty if he said anything at all complimentary to her.

The other boy, Alan Courtney, was very tall and broad-shouldered, and not at all good-looking.  He had a strong, plain face, grey eyes deeply set, and brown hair that looked as if he was in a constant state of rumpling it up the wrong way.  He was a University student, and a great footballer, and he never diverted himself on the long homeward journey in the way Andrew and his friend did.