She threw herself on her knees in the road, as regardless of the dust as
were the children, and drawing the sobbing child close to her, took her
handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped its little, dirty, smeared
face, and began comforting it in soothing tones. Keith had come up and
stood watching her with quickening breath. All he could see under her
hat was an oval chin and the dainty curve of a pink cheek where it faded
into snow, and at the back of a small head a knot of brown hair resting
on the nape of a shapely neck. For the rest, she had a trim figure and
wore new gloves which fitted perfectly. Keith mentally decided that she
must be about sixteen or seventeen years old, and, from the glimpse he
had caught of her, must be pretty. He became conscious suddenly that he
had on his worst suit of clothes.

"Good evening," he said, raising his hand to his hat.

The girl glanced up just as the hat was lifted.

"How do you do?"

Their eyes met, and the color surged into Keith's face, and the hat came
off with quite a flourish.

Why, she was beautiful! Her eyes were as blue as wet violets.

"I will help you hunt for it," he said half guilefully, half kindly.
"Where did she drop it?" He did not take his eyes from the picture of
the slim figure on her knees.

"She has lost her money, poor little dear! She was on her way to the
store to buy candy, and lost all her money."