“It is a great pleasure to me, Ranald, that you like them,” she said, earnestly. “I want you to love good books and good men and noble deeds.” Ranald stood listening in silence. “Then some day you will be a good and great man yourself,” she added, “and you will do some noble work.” The boy stood looking far away into the woods, his black eyes filled with a mysterious fire. Suddenly he threw back his head and said, as if he had forgotten Mrs. Murray's presence, “Yes, some day I will be a great man. I know it well.” “And good,” softly added Mrs. Murray. He turned and looked at her a moment as if in a dream. Then, recalling himself, he answered, “I suppose that is the best.” “Yes, it is the best, Ranald,” she replied. “No man is great who is not good. But come now and give me my lesson.” Ranald stepped out into the bush, and from a tree near by he lifted a trough of sap and emptied it into the big kettle. “That's the first thing you do with the sap,” he said. “How? Carry every trough to the kettle?” “Oh, I see,” laughed Ranald. “You must have every step.” “Yes, indeed,” she replied, with determination. “Well, here it is.” He seized a bucket, went to another tree, emptied the sap from the trough into the bucket, and thence into the barrel, and from the barrel into the big kettle. “Then from the big kettle into the little one,” he said, catching up a big dipper tied to a long pole, and transferring the boiling sap as he spoke from one kettle to another. “But how can you tell when it is ready?” asked Mrs. Murray. “Only by tasting. When it is very sweet it must go into the little kettle.” “And then?” Her eager determination to know all the details delighted him beyond measure. “Then you must be very careful indeed, or you will lose all your day's work, and your sugar besides, for it is very easy to burn.” “But how can you tell when it is ready?” “Oh, you must just keep tasting every few minutes till you think you have the syrup, and then for the sugar you must just boil it a little longer.” “Well,” said Mrs. Murray, “when it is ready what do you do?” “Then,” he said, “you must quickly knock the fire from under it, and pour it into the pans, stirring it till it gets nearly cool.” “And why do you stir it?” she asked. “Oh, to keep it from getting too hard.” “Now I have learned something I never knew before,” said the minister's wife, delightedly, “and I am very grateful to you. We must help each other, Ranald.” “Indeed, it is little I can do for you,” he said, shyly. “You do not know how much I am going to ask you to do,” she said, lightly. “Wait and see.” At that moment a series of shrieks rose high above the shouting and laughter of the games, and Maimie came flying down toward the camp, pursued by Don, with the others following. “Oh, auntie!” she panted, “he's going to--going to--” she paused, with cheeks burning. “It's forfeits, Mrs. Murray,” explained Don.