“A friend of the James Murrays in Winnipeg. You remember them, don't you? Ethel Murray was in your year. He is very nice indeed, don't you think so, Papa?” said Jane, appealing to her father. “Fine young chap,” said Dr. Brown with emphasis. “His father is in mines in rather a big way, I believe. Lives in Chicago, has large holdings in Alberta coal mines about here somewhere, I fancy. The young man is a recent graduate from Cornell and is going into his father's business. He strikes me as an exceptionally able young fellow.” And for at least five miles of the way Dr. Brown discussed the antecedents, the character, the training, the prospects of the young American till Larry felt qualified to pass a reasonably stiff examination on that young man's history, character and career. “Now tell me,” said Larry to Jane at the first real opening that offered, “what does this talk about a three days' visit to us mean. The idea of coming a thousand miles on your first visit to your friends, some of whom you have not seen for eight years and staying three days!” “You see Papa is on his way to Banff,” explained Jane, “and then he goes to the coast and he only has a short time. So we could plan only for three days here.” “We can plan better than that,” said Larry confidently, “but never mind just now. We shall settle that to-morrow.” The journey home was given to the careful recital of news of Winnipeg, of the 'Varsity, and of mutual friends. It was like listening to the reading of a diary to hear Jane bring up to date the doings and goings and happenings in the lives of their mutual friends for the past year. Gossip it was, but of such kindly nature as left no unpleasant taste in the mouth and gave no unpleasant picture of any living soul it touched. “Oh, who do you think came to see me two weeks ago? An old friend of yours, Hazel Sleighter. Mrs. Phillips she is now. She has two lovely children. Mr. Phillips is in charge of a department in Eaton's store.” “You don't tell me,” cried Larry. “How is dear Hazel? How I loved her once! I wonder where her father is and Tom and the little girl. What was her name?” “Ethel May. Oh, she is married too, in your old home, to Ben--somebody.” “Ben, big Ben Hopper? Why, think of that kid married.” “She is just my age,” said Jane soberly, glad of the dusk of the falling night. She would have hated to have Larry see the quick flush that came to her cheek. Why the reference to Ethel May's marriage should have made her blush she hardly knew, and that itself was enough to annoy her, for Jane always knew exactly why she did things. “And Mr. and Mrs. Sleighter,” said Jane, continuing her narrative, “have gone to Toronto. They have become quite wealthy, Hazel says, and Tom is with his father in some sort of financial business. What is it, Papa?”