I went into the store and packed together the few humble necessities which had been Rita's excuse for coming over, although, I discovered later, that Rita was pretty much of a free agent and did not require an excuse to satisfy either her grandmother or her grandfather, both of whom trusted her implicitly. Time went past quickly in there. "Rita, it is almost dark. Will you let me accompany you across the Bay? I can fix a tow line behind for your little boat." "That would be nice," she answered simply. "But I can see in the dark near as well as in the day time. I could row across there blindfold." As I paddled her over, I thought what a pity it was she could not talk more correctly than she did. It was the one, the only jarring, note in her entire make-up. But for that, she was as perfect a little lady as I had ever met. Why not offer to teach her English? came the question to me;--and I decided I would some day, but not just then. I would wait until I knew her a little better; I would wait until I had become better acquainted with her people; until the edge of my quarrel with Joe had worn off. As we grounded on the shore, in front of Rita's home, old Andrew Clark,--short and sturdy in appearance and dour as any Scot could ever be,--was on the beach. He came down to meet us and invited me up for a cup of tea. I accepted the invitation, as I had a business project to discuss with the old man, something that should prove a benefit to the store and a financial benefit to him. He led me into the kitchen, where his wife,--a quiet, white-haired old lady with a loving face and great sad eyes,--was sitting in an armchair darning. She looked up as we entered. Andrew Clark did not seek to introduce me, which I thought unmannerly. I turned round for Rita, but Rita had not followed us in; so I went forward and held out my hand. The dear old woman took it and smiled as if to say, "How sensible of you." "Sit down and make yourself at home," she said kindly. She spoke with the accent of an Eastern Canadian, although it was evident she had spent many years in the West. Andrew Clark still held to his mother tongue,--Lowland Scots. But his speech was also punctuated with Western slang and dialect. Every article of furniture in that kitchen was home-made:--chairs, table, picture frames, washstands,--everything, and good solid furniture it was too. The table was already set for tea. Mrs. Clark busied herself infusing the refreshment, then Rita came in and we all sat down together. Andrew Clark's grace was quite an event,--as long as the ten commandments, sonorous, impressive and flowery. I found he could talk, and talk well; and of many out-of-the-common subjects he displayed considerably more than a passing knowledge. Margaret Clark,--for that was the lady's name,--was quiet and seemed docile and careworn. She impressed me as being the patient bearer of a hidden burden.