The answer to this was another question; ’She left her mother at home, didn’t she?’ ’Yes,’ said he breathlessly. ’Do you want to send for her? But that would be no use. Her mother could not travel just now; she’s too much of an invalid; why, it was she who sent Carry away on this holiday.’ ’Her father, then?’ ’Why, yes, he’s at home just now. Shall I telegraph for him?’ ’No—not yet—I don’t want to frighten her. We’ll see in the morning.’ But long before the morning came they discovered how things were going with her. Late that night Mrs. Lalor, who had undertaken to sit up till her sister should come to relieve her, stole noiselessly along to the room of the latter and woke her. ’Em, darling, who is Ronald?’ she whispered. ’Ronald? I don’t know,’ was the answer—for she was still somewhat confused. ’Carry is asking that one Ronald should be sent for—do come and see her, Em—I think she’s wandering a little—she says there’s never any luck in the boat except when Ronald is in it—I don’t understand it at all——’ ’But I do—I do now,’ said the girl, as she hastily got up and put a dressing-gown and some wraps around her. ’And you’ll have to send for the Doctor at once, Mary—he said he would not be in bed till two. She must be in a fever—that’s delirium—if she thinks she is in the Highlands again.’ And delirium it was, though of no violent kind. No, she lay quite placidly; and it was only at times that she uttered a few indistinct words; but those around her now perceived that her brain had mixed up this Lake George with that other Scotch lake they had heard of, and they guessed that it was about salmon-fishing she was thinking when she said that it was Ronald that always brought good luck to the boat. *CHAPTER X.* *A CHALLENGE.* On the evening of the day on which Agatha Gemmill had made her portentous discovery about the secret interviews between her sister and Ronald, Mr. Gemmill—a little, red-headed man with shrewd blue eyes—came home in very good spirits. ’Look here, Aggie—here’s an invitation for you,’ he was beginning—when he saw-that something was wrong. ’What is it now?’ he asked. And then the story was told him—and not without a touch of indignation in the telling. But Mr. Gemmill did not seem so horror-stricken as his wife had expected; she began to emphasise the various points; and was inclined to be angry with him for his coolness. ’Girls often have fancies like that—you know well enough, Agatha,’ he said. ’All you have to do is to take a gentle way with her, and talk common sense to her, and it will be all right. If you make a row, you will only drive her into obstinacy. She will listen to reason; she’s not a fool; if you take a quiet and gentle way with her——’