“I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am, Harry, that both of my boys are taking hold of such good work, you here and Ranald in British Columbia. He must have a very hard time of it, but he speaks very gratefully of Colonel Thorp, who, he says, often opposes but finally agrees with his proposals.” Harry laughed aloud. “Agrees, does he? And do you know why? I remember seeing him one day, and he was in a state of wild fury at Ranald's notions. I won't quote his exact words. The next day I found him in a state of bland approval. Then I learn incidentally that in the meantime Kate has been giving him tea and music.” “Don't listen to his mean insinuations, auntie,” said Kate, blushing a little. Mrs. Murray turned and looked curiously into her face and smiled, and then Kate blushed all the more. “I think that may explain some things that have been mysterious to me,” she said. “Oh, what, auntie?” cried Harry; “I am most anxious to know.” “Never mind,” said Mrs. Murray; “I will explain to Kate.” “That won't help me any. She is a most secretive person, twiddles us all round her fingers and never lets us know anything until it's done. It is most exasperating. Oh, I say, Kate,” added Harry, suddenly, “would you mind dropping me at the florist's here?” “Why? Oh, I see,” said Kate, drawing in her team. “How do you do, Lily? Harry is anxious to select some flowers,” she said, bowing to a very pretty girl on the sidewalk. “Kate, do stop it,” besought Harry, in a low voice, as he leaped out of the carriage. “Good by, auntie, I'll see you this evening. Don't believe all Kate tells you,” he added, as they drove away. “Are you too tired for a turn in the park,” said Kate, “or shall we drive home?” A drive is always pleasant. Besides, one can talk about some things with more freedom in a carriage than face to face in one's room. The horses require attention at critical moments, and there are always points of interest when it is important that conversation should be deflected from the subject in hand, so since Mrs. Murray was willing, Kate turned into the park. For an hour they drove along its shady, winding roads while Mrs. Murray talked of many things, but mostly of Ranald, and of the tales that the Glengarry people had of him. For wherever there was lumbering to be done, sooner or later there Glengarry men were to be found, and Ranald had found them in the British Columbia forests. And to their people at home their letters spoke of Ranald and his doings at first doubtfully, soon more confidently, but always with pride. To Macdonald Bhain a rare letter came from Ranald now and then, which he would carry to Mrs. Murray with a difficult pretense of modesty. For with Macdonald Bhain, Ranald was a great man. “But he is not quite sure of him,” said Mrs. Murray. “He thinks it is a very queer way of lumbering, and the wages he considers excessive.”