"Girls--but not Cherry," the mother answered; and Magnus was so charmed with the saying, and the fair little pedestal on which it placed his heart's delight, that he adopted it for a private phrase of his own; used many times afterwards, it may be said, when "girls--but not Cherry," were around. "Then, when she will not come, you go to her?" he asked. "Oh, she always comes," said Violet; "some time in the day." "Some time in the day!" "According to what she has to do. Only letter days she always came early, and left the work till she got back." "Some of it," corrected Rose. "But there's no letter due from Magnus to-day, you know, so we cannot tell when she will be here." "Now that is too bad!" said Mr. Kindred, pushing back his chair. "Coming to hear my letters, and not coming to see me!" "Well, the letters were very interesting, you know----" Violet began, and then thought it prudent to vanish. "But, my dear," said Mrs. Kindred, "as you must of course go up there this morning yourself before you pay any other visits, I do not see how it really matters." "No, of course," said Magnus briskly. "Oh, mammy, I wish you'd pick out a lot of such easy duties for me." "We cannot go with you," said Rose, "because we also have something to do; but we will come after you. You must wear your cadet clothes for Mr. Erskine." So Magnus put himself in trim, and charging his sisters not to hurry on his account, and promising faithfully to wait till they came, began to mount the hill. Good for him the girls were busy--and yet, suppose that other girl were hid away in some part of the house to which Rose and Violet could go, while he could not? Magnus whistled his thoughts down the wind, as he went on, and then, with a sudden fancy to approach unnoticed, hushed his tones and even his steps, and went in, seeing nobody. Through the hall to the back door--and there got another picture to think of in barracks. XXVIII ON EXHIBITION Wise men always Affirm and say, That best is for a man Diligently For to apply, All business that he can. --SIR T. MORE. The Red House had been set very near the branch road by which he came up, and in front there was only a short path and a bit of greensward, but at the back lay a big old-fashioned garden, sloping gaily down towards a bit of woodland and a talkative brook. Overlooking all this was a very wide porch with sashes on all sides which could be shut, but which on this warm still morning were all slid back. The porch within was full of flowers, with various rustic holders to hang and to stand and to rest on the sills, a wonderful basket of lilies of the valley being the centre piece on the breakfast table. There were traces in the house of other days and more Eastern regions, and the little spider-legged table was dark with long years of service, the spoons were slim-stemmed and delicate, the dishes of exquisite blue and white.