"I should n't know him if I met him on the road," said Mr. Ewart; "for his cap was drawn over his forehead, and his beard and side whiskers were a mask. Won't he come in with us for a few minutes, Jamie?-- By the way, you say that he is always with you at porridge, a custom I hope you will not depart from, now I am here, Mrs. Macleod." "I shall want some too," said the Doctor, whimsically; "it will be like those never-to-be-forgotten days in Crieff fifteen years ago." Mrs. Macleod said nothing; but she turned to him with such an indulgent smile, that I knew she would give the great man anything in reason or unreason for what he had been, and was, to her son and to herself. Jamie jumped up impulsively. "Tell me what he said, Marcia, about Gordon's talk with Pierre, and then I 'll go and have him in--without the porridge, though, for it's too late to-night." "He said that if the old manor barns had been 'afire', and Mr. Ewart and Pierre had been trying to get the horses out, they could n't have talked faster." "That's one on you, Ewart," said Jamie, gleefully. Mr. Ewart laughed. "I hope to make a friend of Cale; I like him." Jamie left the room, and the talk drifted to other things. "Have you seen Mère Guillardeau lately?" Mr. Ewart asked of Mrs. Macleod. "Not since the last of October; but Marcia has seen her recently." He looked at me inquiringly. "I bought the rag carpet strips of her daughter." "Is the old woman well?" "Yes, she is wonderful for her age." "Ninety-nine next year," said Mr. Ewart. "What a century she has lived!" "André père must be ninety, then," said Doctor Rugvie. "How well I remember him! He is Mère Guillardeau's brother, as perhaps you know," he said turning to me. "Jamie must have told you of André." "Yes, of André father and André son; you know them both?" It was the first time I had spoken directly with the Doctor, although he was the one in the room upon whom all my thoughts centered. "For many years; I saw him first in Tadoussac, just after the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Afterwards, for six consecutive summers I was in camp with him and his son on the Upper Saguenay. There 's none like him. By the way, Miss Farrell, has Jamie ever told you how the old guide André went to the World's Fair at Chicago?" "No." "We 'll get him to tell you--and us; I can never hear it too many times. It's unique, and it takes Jamie to tell it well. André told me years ago, and last summer he told Jamie and Mr. Ewart. Jamie wrote me about it." "I shall never forget that night," said Mr. Ewart. He laid his pipe on the mantel and stood back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him. He was not so tall as Jamie or Doctor Rugvie; not so thin as the former, nor stout like the latter. He had kept his body in good training for, as he stood there, despite the few gray hairs on the temples, he looked like a man of thirty, rather than one who might be father to Jamie.