Produced by Al Haines IN ORCHARD GLEN BY MARIAN KEITH AUTHOR OF "TREASURE VALLEY," "THE SILVER MAPLE," ETC. McCLELLAND AND STEWART PUBLISHERS : : TORONTO _Copyright, 1918,_ _By George H. Doran Company_ _Printed in the United States of America_ CONTENTS CHAPTER I APPLE-BLOSSOM DAYS II AWAY FROM ORCHARD GLEN III "WHOSOEVER WILL LOSE HIS LIFE" IV CRAIG-ELLACHIE V "HEY! JOHNNIE COPE" VI ST. VALENTINE'S PRANK VII OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE VIII THE WAR DRUM IX THE DREAM KNIGHT X CALLED TO THE COLORS XI "LAST LEAVE" XII "ALL THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER!" XIII "THE PLIGHTED RING" XIV "OVER THE TOP" XV THE GARDEN BLOOMS AGAIN XVI THE HILLS ABOVE ORCHARD GLEN IN ORCHARD GLEN CHAPTER I APPLE-BLOSSOM DAYS It was on Christina Lindsay's nineteenth birthday that she made the second Great Discovery about herself. The first one had been made when she was only eleven, and like the second it had proved an unpleasant surprise. It was midsummer holidays, that time when she was only eleven, and raspberry time too, and Christina and her brother Sandy were picking berries in the "Slash," a wild bit of semi-woodland away up on the hills that divided her home farm from the land of the Grant Sisters. The Grant Girls--they were all three over fifty but everybody rightly called them girls,--the Grant Girls were there picking berries too, with Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, and several other friends; and there were many more groups scattered here and there through the green tangle of bushes and saplings. For a berry-patch was community property, and when the crop was plentiful, as it was this year, a berry-picking became a pleasant social function, where one met friends from near and far, and picnicked with them under the trees. Christina was working with furious speed. She and Sandy had been racing all morning to see who would be the first to fill a four-quart pail. For Uncle Neil had promised the winner unheard-of wealth, a whole quarter of a dollar to spend as one wished, and Christina was determined that the money should be hers. She had found a wonderful patch and was fairly pouring the berries into her pail in a red and black shower. She was keeping well down behind a clump of alder, too, out of range of Sandy's roving eye. For Sandy had a habit of allowing you to find the best place, and then swooping down upon it like a plague of grasshoppers. She was working so hard that she did not notice a group of berry pickers who had taken up their station right opposite her on the Grant side of the low fence, and was suddenly attracted by the discovery that they were discussing her own family. "Them Lindsay lassies are that bonnie, I jist like to sit and look at them, even in church when I ought to be looking at my Bible." It was Miss Flora Grant's soft voice that came through the screen of sumach and alder.