“Why should she? He has done more to set young men and women thinking than any man in this century at least. Don't you be afraid if it is what you want, take it, and go ahead as he tells you “Without halting, without rest, Lifting Better up to Best.” “I'll try,” said Rose meekly, feeling that Mac had been going ahead himself much faster than she had any suspicion. Here a voice exclaimed “Hallo!” and, looking around, Jamie was discovered surveying them critically as he stood in an independent attitude, like a small Colossus of Rhodes in brown linen, with a bundle of molasses candy in one hand, several new fishhooks cherished carefully in the other, and his hat well on the back of his head, displaying as many freckles as one somewhat limited nose could reasonably accommodate. “How are you, young one?” said Mac, nodding. “Tip-top. Glad it's you. Thought Archie might have turned up again, and he's no fun. Where did you come from? What did you come for? How long are you going to stay? Want a bit? It's jolly good.” With which varied remarks Jamie approached, shook hands in a manly way, and, sitting down beside his long cousin, hospitably offered sticks of candy all around. “Did you get any letters?” asked Rose, declining the sticky treat. “Lots, but Mama forgot to give 'em to me, and I was rather in a hurry, for Mrs. Atkinson said somebody had come and I couldn't wait,” explained Jamie, reposing luxuriously with his head on Mac's legs and his mouth full. “I'll step and get them. Aunty must be tired, and we should enjoy reading the news together.” “She is the most convenient girl that ever was,” observed Jamie as Rose departed, thinking Mac might like some more substantial refreshment than sweetmeats. “I should think so, if you let her run your errands, you lazy little scamp,” answered Mac, looking after her as she went up the green slope, for there was something very attractive to him about the slender figure in a plain white gown with a black sash about the waist and all the wavy hair gathered to the top of the head with a little black bow. “Sort of pre-Raphaelite, and quite refreshing after the furbelowed creatures at the hotels,” he said to himself as she vanished under the arch of scarlet runners over the garden gate.