“Well, Coley, I have had a great summer,” began Ranald, “and I wish very much you could have been with me. It would have built you up and made a man of you. Just feel that,” and he held out his arm, which Coley felt with admiring reverence. “That's what the canoe did,” and then he proceeded to give a graphic account of his varied adventures by land and water during the last six months. As they neared Mr. Raymond's house, Ranald turned to Coley and said: “Now I want you to cut back to the Institute and tell Mr. Locke, if he is there, that I would like him to call around at my office to-morrow. And furthermore, Coley, there's no need of your going back into that saloon. I was a little ashamed to see one of my friends in a place like that. Now, good night, and be a man, and a clean man.” Coley stood with his head hung in abject self-abasement, and then ventured to say, “I couldn't stand them ducks nohow!” “Who do you mean?” said Ranald. “Oh, them fellers that runs the Institute now, and so I cut.” “Now look here, Coley,” said Ranald, “I wouldn't go throwing stones at better men than yourself, and especially at men who are trying to do something to help other people and are not so beastly mean as to think only of their own pleasure. I didn't expect that of you, Coley. Now quit it and start again,” and Ranald turned away. Coley stood looking after him for a few moments in silence, and then said to himself, in a voice full of emphasis: “Well, there's just one of his kind and there ain't any other.” Then he set out at a run for the Institute. It was Kate herself who came to answer Ranald's ring. “I knew it was you,” she cried, with her hand eagerly outstretched and her face alight with joy. “Come in, we are all waiting for you, and prepare to be surprised.” When they came to the drawing-room she flung open the door and with great ceremony announced “The man from Glengarry, as Harry would say.” “Hello, old chap!” cried Harry, springing to his feet, but Ranald ignored him. He greeted Kate's mother warmly for she had shown him a mother's kindness ever since he had come to the city, and they were great friends, and then he turned to Mrs. Murray, who was standing waiting for him, and gave her both his hands. “I knew from Kate's letter,” he said, “that it would be you, and I cannot tell you how glad I am.” His voice grew a little unsteady and he could say no more. Mrs. Murray stood holding his hands and looking into his face. “It cannot be possible,” she said, “that this is Ranald Macdonald! How changed you are!” She pushed him a little back from her. “Let me look at you; why, I must say it, you are really handsome!” “Now, auntie,” cried Harry, reprovingly, “don't flatter him. He is utterly ruined now by every one, including both Kate and her mother.”