"She's fighting rather shy of you to-day," responded Lucian, "and I can't help wondering what you've been up to. Miss Denman doesn't seem to me an unreasonable girl. She and I had a fine time to-day at the market. I'm afraid that you have been teasing her, Martine." But Martine continued to insist that her conscience was quite clear, so far as Priscilla was concerned, and that Lucian must imagine any traces of ill-feeling. Nevertheless, she could but observe that Priscilla seemed to be avoiding her; for, in the afternoon, when Amy and Fritz went off on their bicycles for a spin through the Park, Priscilla declined Martine's invitation to go with her and Lucian to the Public Gardens to hear the band play. "I have letters to write," she said, "and--well, on the whole, I really can't go." "Very well," rejoined Martine, rather shortly, as she left Priscilla's room to report to Lucian that her invitation had been so scorned. "You must have done something to offend her; think it over carefully, Martine, and then confess," urged Lucian. Priscilla had made so good an impression on him that he was unable to consider her wholly in the wrong. CHAPTER XXIII GOOD-BYE TO HALIFAX Lucian's well-meant advice shared the fate of most advice volunteered by brothers. Martine, unconscious of offence, had no intention of apologizing to Priscilla for things she had not done. Instead, she began to feel annoyed with the latter for her unfairness; for certainly, Priscilla, in giving Lucian the impression that he had received, must have been unfair. "But if she has been unfair," said Martine, "she can just wait for my news. It's too bad, for when I first read papa's letter it seemed as if I could hardly wait to go downstairs to tell the others." Now Martine, though impulsive, was not naturally vindictive, and it would have been almost impossible for her to keep her secret from Amy and Priscilla had she not, immediately after reading her letter, confided its contents to Mrs. Redmond. Somebody knew; and in the course of two or three hours that they all passed together on Saturday evening, Martine more than once changed her seat to have a whispered word or two with Amy's mother. On Sunday they all set out for the Garrison Church. "We make almost as imposing an array as the troops themselves," said Amy. "Perhaps we might if we were stretched out in single file. Since the boys joined us we are really a regiment; but Halifax people are so used to seeing strangers that I am afraid that they won't take any special notice of us," responded Martine. "I should hope they wouldn't. How well we should have to behave if we felt that all eyes were upon us," replied Amy. After service they pushed their way through the crowd waiting outside the churchyard to see the troops form in line. "It doesn't seem quite the thing on Sunday, does it?" murmured Priscilla to Amy; whereat Martine, laughing loudly, cried: