Margaret, looking from her boudoir window, fell under the spell of the outdoors. The early winter afternoon had broken in a flood of golden sunshine, and soon, attired in comfortable walking clothes, and taking with her Bouncer, her collie, she started for a tramp through the fields. The same lure of the open had enthralled that day a young society man of New York. In knickerbockers and walking jacket, shotgun in hand, he was proceeding on a jaunt through the woods. But Jack Stuyvesant was not in good shooting form, and a third clumsy attempt merely chipped a big piece of bark off an oak. Our Mutual Girl was sitting on a boulder, amusing herself and Bouncer by throwing twigs and stones in a brook for him to recover, when the piece of bark fell into her lap. At the same instant, Jack Stuyvesant came bounding through the underbrush to see what had fallen to his gun. Face to face with each other, there was almost instant attraction. But Margaret had conventions to consider, and after talking awhile, they parted with never an idea that they should ever meet again. That night Our Mutual Girl had a dream. She lived over all her experiences, her childhood on the Maryland farm, her year of shopping, sight-seeing, meeting celebrities, her little romances, but at the end of them all she seemed to see Stuyvesant’s face, like the solution of a complicated problem. When the next morning came a note from Auntie Knickerbocker bidding Margaret return to the Fifth Avenue house, her instinct told Our Mutual Girl that something real was going to happen. Well, she went, and that evening Auntie Knickerbocker introduced her to, Yes, gentle reader, to Jack Stuyvesant. And it ends in the way all girlhood romances should end, they started to live happily forever after.