after all, the boy would have been better in a kilt, with his hair over his eyes, like the Whistler in the “Heart of Midlothian.” She looked on breathless as the steamboat drew to the pier. Certainly they would rush on board to greet their father, to bring him home in triumph, even if they were less anxious to make her acquaintance; but Marion and Archie did not budge an inch. They stood there, on the defensive, a little defiant, staring, waiting till they were spoken to; and in the bustle of the arrival, the haste of the transference from the quickly departing steamboat to the land, with all the baggage which Rowland, with his habits of personal superintendence did not think the maid and man whom they had brought able to deal with, Evelyn found herself flung upon the two without any introduction. She put out her hand to her step-daughter. “You are Marion, I am sure,” she said, drawing the girl towards her and kissing her on both cheeks. “I am very glad to see you, my dear.” “And so am I--to see you--mamma,” said the girl reddening and staring. The name felt to Evelyn like a stone flung in her face. “And this is Archie,” she said, transferring Marion’s somewhat unwilling hot, little gloved hand to her left, and holding out the other to the boy. He for his part made no answer, but gave her a quick look, and then withdrew his eyes. “Your father is too busy to think about us till the luggage is all right,” she said; “but I hope we are going to be, we three, very great friends.”