"It looks bare enough now," he said, raising the candle at the full stretch of his arm that I might see the oak panels of the ceiling; "I leave it to you to make it cheery. Here 's something that will help out in this room and in the living-room." He took a large pasteboard box from the floor, and we went back into the other room. Jamie and Mrs. Macleod were there. "Now, what have you there, Gordon?" said the former, frankly showing the curiosity that is a part of his make-up. "Something that should delight your inner man's eye," he replied. Going to the table, he opened the box and took from it some of the exquisite first and second proofs of those wonderful etchings by Meryon. We looked and looked again. Old Paris, the Paris of the second republic, lay spread before us: bridges, quays, chimney-pots, roofs, river and the cathedral of Notre Dame were there in black and white, and the Seine breathing dankness upon all! I possessed myself of one, the Pont Neuf, and betook myself to the sofa to enjoy it. "You know these, Miss Farrell?" "Only as I have seen woodcuts of them in New York." "They are my favorites; I want nothing else on my walls. Will you select some for this room and some for the den? I will passepartout them; they should have no frames." "You 're just giving me the best treat you could possibly provide," I said, still in possession of the proof, "and how glad I am that I 've had it--" "What, Marcia?" This from Jamie. "I mean the chance to extract a little honey from the strong." Mrs. Macleod and Jamie looked thoroughly mystified, not knowing New York; but Mr. Ewart smiled at my enthusiasm and scripture application. He understood that some things during the years of my "scrimping" had borne fruit. "I believe you 're more than half French, Ewart," said Jamie, looking up from the proof he was examining; "I mean in feeling and sympathy." "No, I am all Canadian." "You mean English, don't you?" "No, I mean Canadian." This was said with a fervor and a decision which had such a snap to it, that Jamie looked at him in surprise. Without replying, he continued his examination of the proof, whistling softly to himself. Mr. Ewart turned to Mrs. Macleod and said, smiling: "I want all members of my household to know just where I stand; in the future we may have a good many English guests in the house.--Please, give me an extra amount of porridge, Mrs. Macleod." XV With the coming of the furniture and the furnishing of the office, my hands were full for the next week. During the time, Mr. Ewart was in Ottawa on business, and I worked like a Trojan to have everything in readiness on his return. I was determined he should be the first to see the transformation of his special room, and forbade Jamie to open the door so much as a crack that might afford him a peep.