“But,” went on Kate, “I can imagine, too, how Ranald would look back at her if he caught her meaning.” “Well, perhaps,” said Maimie, with a little laugh, “and that's just it. Oh, I wish he were--” “A lieutenant?” suggested Kate. “Well, yes, I do,” said Maimie, desperately. “And if he were, you would marry him,” said Kate, a shade of contempt in her tone that Maimie failed to notice. “Yes, I would.” Kate remained silent. “There now, you think I am horrid, I know,” said Maimie. “I suppose you would marry him if he were a mere nobody!” “If I loved him,” said Kate, with slow deliberation, and a slight tremor in her voice, “I'd marry him if he were--a shantyman!” “I believe you would,” said Maimie, with a touch of regret in her voice; “but then, you've no Aunt Frank!” “Thank Providence,” replied Kate, under her breath. “And I'm sure I don't want to offend her. Just listen to this.” Maimie pulled out a letter, and turning over the pages, found the place and began to read: “'I am so glad to hear that you are enjoying your stay in Quebec'--um-um-um--'fine old city'--um-um-um--'gates and streets,' 'old days'--um-um-um--'noble citadel,' 'glorious view'--um-um-um-um--'finest in the world'--No, that isn't it--Oh, yes, here it is: 'The De Lacys are a very highly connected English family and very old friends of my friends, the Lord Archers, with whom I visited in England, you know. The mother is a dear old lady--so stately and so very particular--with old-fashioned ideas of breeding and manners, and of course, very wealthy. Her house in Quebec is said to be the finest in the Province, and there are some English estates, I believe, in their line. Lieutenant De Lacy is her only son, and from what you say, he seems to be a very charming young man. He will occupy a very high place someday. I suppose Kate will'--um-um-um--'Oh yes, and if Mrs. De Lacy wishes you to visit her you might accept'--um-um--um--'and tell Kate that I should be delighted if she could accompany me on a little jaunt through the Eastern States. I have asked permission of her father, but she wrote you herself about that, didn't she?--um-um-um--And then listen to this! 'How very odd you should have come across the young man from Glengarry again--Mac Lennon, is it? Mac-something-or-other! Your Aunt Murray seems to consider him a very steady and worthy young man. I hope he may not degenerate in his present circumstances and calling, as so many of his class do. I am glad your father was able to do something for him. These people ought to be encouraged.' Now you see!” Maimie's tone was quite triumphant. “Yes,” said Kate! “I do see! These people should be encouraged to make our timber for us that we may live in ease and luxury, and even to save us from fire and from blood-thirsty mobs, as occasions may offer, but as for friendships and that sort of thing--” “Oh, Kate,” burst in Maimie, almost in tears, “you are so very unkind. You know quite well what I mean.”