Never had Dorothy enjoyed herself so well. Harry Langdon was the prince of escorts. He knew how to make himself agreeable and entertaining. He whispered tender words into his companion's ears, held her little hand, and conveyed to her in a thousand different ways that this was the happiest day of his life, because she was by his side.
At length the hour drew near for the picknickers to leave the grounds, for the boat had already steamed into the dock. In twenty minutes' time she was to start back to the city.
"Have you had a pleasant time, Dorothy?" asked her companion, smiling down into her pleased, flushed face.
"I have had the most pleasant hours of my life!" declared Dorothy. "It has been like heaven here; I am sorry to go. And oh! how dark and drear to-morrow will be in the bindery, after such a pleasant outing here."
"You need not return to the bindery to-morrow unless you wish," whispered Langdon, still holding the girl's little hand in his.
Dorothy's heart beat high. Was handsome Harry Langdon about to propose to her? she wondered.
But no! the words she was waiting for did not fall from his lips, although he had plenty of opportunity as they walked down the gayly festooned path that led to the wharf.
"Perhaps he means to wait until he gets on the boat," she thought, with a fluttering heart.
Poor little Dorothy! there was no one to warn her against him. How was she to realize that the thought of marriage had never entered his head, and that he was of the kind who smile on and flatter women and then ride away, little caring how many broken hearts are left behind?
Dorothy's pretty, innocent face had captivated his fancy, but he would never have dreamed of making her his wife.