IN ORCHARD GLEN

BY

MARIAN KEITH

AUTHOR OF "TREASURE VALLEY, " "THE SILVER MAPLE, " ETC. 

McCLELLAND AND STEWART

PUBLISHERS : : TORONTO

_Copyright, 1918, _

_By George H. Doran Company_

_Printed in the United States of America_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I APPLE-BLOSSOM DAYS II AWAY FROM ORCHARD GLEN III "WHOSOEVER WILL LOSE HIS LIFE" IV CRAIG-ELLACHIE V "HEY! JOHNNIE COPE" VI ST. VALENTINE'S PRANK VII OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE VIII THE WAR DRUM IX THE DREAM KNIGHT X CALLED TO THE COLORS XI "LAST LEAVE" XII "ALL THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER!" XIII "THE PLIGHTED RING" XIV "OVER THE TOP" XV THE GARDEN BLOOMS AGAIN XVI THE HILLS ABOVE ORCHARD GLEN

IN ORCHARD GLEN

CHAPTER I

APPLE-BLOSSOM DAYS

It was on Christina Lindsay's nineteenth birthday that she made thesecond Great Discovery about herself. The first one had been made whenshe was only eleven, and like the second it had proved an unpleasantsurprise. 

It was midsummer holidays, that time when she was only eleven, andraspberry time too, and Christina and her brother Sandy were pickingberries in the "Slash, " a wild bit of semi-woodland away up on thehills that divided her home farm from the land of the Grant Sisters. The Grant Girls--they were all three over fifty but everybody rightlycalled them girls, --the Grant Girls were there picking berries too, with Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, and several other friends; and there were manymore groups scattered here and there through the green tangle of bushesand saplings. For a berry-patch was community property, and when thecrop was plentiful, as it was this year, a berry-picking became apleasant social function, where one met friends from near and far, andpicnicked with them under the trees. 

Christina was working with furious speed. She and Sandy had beenracing all morning to see who would be the first to fill a four-quartpail. For Uncle Neil had promised the winner unheard-of wealth, awhole quarter of a dollar to spend as one wished, and Christina wasdetermined that the money should be hers. 

She had found a wonderful patch and was fairly pouring the berries intoher pail in a red and black shower. She was keeping well down behind aclump of alder, too, out of range of Sandy's roving eye. For Sandy hada habit of allowing you to find the best place, and then swooping downupon it like a plague of grasshoppers. She was working so hard thatshe did not notice a group of berry pickers who had taken up theirstation right opposite her on the Grant side of the low fence, and wassuddenly attracted by the discovery that they were discussing her ownfamily. 

"Them Lindsay lassies are that bonnie, I jist like to sit and look atthem, even in church when I ought to be looking at my Bible. "

It was Miss Flora Grant's soft voice that came through the screen ofsumach and alder. 

"They've all taken after their mother's folks. " It was Miss Elspie'sstill softer voice. "The MacDonald women of that family was all goodlookin'. "

"Well, my grief! You don't call that long-legged youngest thinggood-lookin', do you?" sang out the loud voice of Mrs. Johnnie Dunn. "She's as homely as a day-old colt!"

The long-legged youngest thing nearly jumped out of her hiding place onthe other side of the bushes. She caught a fleeting glimpse of thelast speaker, her long, thin neck and green sunbonnet sticking up outof a tangle of bushes, like a stinging nettle in a garden. 

"Oh, you mean little Christina, " said Flora Grant gently, "I jistdidn't mind about her. No, she's a nice bit lassock, but she's notbonnie. Eh, Sarah, jist look at yon patch over there; the bushes isjist as rid as roses!"

They all moved away with a sound of tearing briars, and the Lindsaylass that was not bonnie crawled deeper into her leafy hiding-place, making a brave effort to choke back something that was causing herthroat to swell and her eyes to smart. Crying was a luxury neverindulged in, in the Lindsay family, except in the case of a realcalamity like falling out of the hay mow, or tearing your Sunday dress, and Christina dared not run the risk of having Sandy find her in tearsover mere hurt feelings. 

Nevertheless it was a very dreadful thing, quite worth crying over, this discovery that she was homely. She knew it was a tragedy, fromwhat Ellen and Mary said about girls who were not pretty. And theworst of it was that even the Grant Girls, who were her mother's verybest and closest friends, admitted the shameful fact. Mrs. JohnnieDunn would say even Joanna Falls was ugly, just to be mean, but theGrant Girls always said the very best about any one that could be said. Flora Grant had admitted that she was a "Nice bit lassock, " but thatwas small comfort. Christina would have preferred to be pronounced themost disagreeable little girl in all the Province of Ontario, providedher accuser had added that she was a beauty. Character might beimproved, but what hope was there for an ugly face?

The Lindsay habit of industry forbade that she sit long under a bushcovered with berries bewailing her lack of comeliness, for even aperson as homely as a day-old colt might make use of twenty-five cents. So she wiped her eyes on her blue-checked pinafore, and crawling outfrom her hiding-place, set stoically to work. 

She had been following a path led by the ripest and largest fruit, androunding a clump of briars, she came upon some one's dinner basket, tucked away in a cool corner. There was a pink silk sash folded on thetop of the basket, and from underneath peeped the edge of a handmirror. The basket undoubtedly belonged to Joanna Falls, who was herewith a party of girls from the village. Joanna was quite thehandsomest girl in Orchard Glen, and Mrs. Johnnie Dunn said shebelieved she never went even to church without a looking-glass in herpocket. Christina glanced about her guiltily, and then, trembling, took up the little mirror. For the first time in her life she lookedcarefully and critically at her own countenance. 

She saw a thin, little, brown face, framed by a blue sunbonnet, bigblue eyes that made the sunbonnet look faded, some untidy wisps ofstraight fair hair, and a great many freckles scattered over a shapelynose. Christina carefully replaced the mirror and moved on feelinglike a thief. 

Yes, she understood now why she was homely. It was her straight hairand those dreadful freckles. Mary had beautiful long black curls, andEllen had brown wavy hair, and both of them tanned a lovely even brownwith never a spot or blemish. Well, she would cure both maladies, seeif she wouldn't! Mary said Joanna Falls washed her face and handsevery night of her life in tansy and buttermilk. Christina would dothe same, and she would buy some of that pink complexion cure that wasin the corner store window, and which Tilly Holmes, the store-keeper'sdaughter, said would wash anything off your face, even a scar. And shewould put her hair up in curl-papers every night, and best of all, shewould take the twenty-five cents that Uncle Neil would give her, andafter she had paid for the complexion cure, she would buy a yard ofpink satin ribbon and tie up her hair and she would look as fine andhandsome as Joanna Falls herself, and even Mrs. Johnnie Dunn would haveto admit that she was as good-looking as any of the Lindsays!

And as if to put emphasis upon her vow, she tossed the last cupful ofberries into her pail, and found it heaping full! She had won themoney! She caught up her pail and hurried joyfully to the spot whereshe had last seen Sandy, her spirits rising at every step. She wasalready on the way to beauty and success, by way of tansy andbuttermilk and twenty-five; cents worth of complexion cure and pinkribbon!

Unmindful of many scratches, she tore through a clump of briars, andalmost tumbled over a small figure crouched in the pathway. It was aboy in a ragged shirt and a pair of trousers many sizes too large forhim. He was kneeling beside an overturned pail, and was strivingdesperately to gather up a mashed heap of berries and sand. 

"Oh, " cried Christina, stopping short in sympathetic dismay, "oh, Gavin. What did you do?"

The boy looked up. He was holding his mouth in a tight line, manfullykeeping back the misery his eyes could not hide. "I--I jist fell overthem, " he said with a desperate effort at nonchalance. 

Christina put down her pail and tried to help. She had never likedGavin Hume. He was a Scotch boy, whom old Skinflint Jenkins' folks hadadopted from an Orphan Asylum. He was dirty and shy, and at school thegirls laughed at him and the boys teased him. But to-day he was introuble, and rumour had it that Gavin's life was one long period oftrouble, for the Jenkinses were hard people. 

"It's no use, " declared Christina at last, examining the dreadful mess, and thinking of what her mother would do with it, "they're too dirty touse, Gavin. Never mind, " she added comfortingly, "she won't scold, will she?"

The boy gave a half-contemptuous gesture. "Scold? I wouldn't careabout that. _He_ said he'd give me the horse-whip when I got home ifit wasn't full. "

Christina shuddered. "But you did fill it, " she cried indignantly. "Won't he believe you?"

The boy looked at her as an old man might look at a prattling child. Gavin was only a couple of years older than Christina and no bigger, but there were ages of hardship in his experience, which her shelteredchildhood could not know. But Christina's heart was always far inadvance of her head, and it guessed much. That look told her volumes. Quick as a flash, she righted his pail, caught up her own, and tumbledits fresh rosy wealth into his, heaping it high. 

"Oh, Christine! Oh, you mustn't!" The boy caught her hand to stopher, but Christina jerked away, and ran from him down the twistinggreen pathway. And as she ran she heard Mrs. Skinflint's terriblevoice calling, "Gav-_in_! Is that pail not full yet, you lazy lump?" and Gavin'sprompt reply, "Yes'm. It's heapin'. "

And that was some comfort to the homely young person who, with a pailonly half full, and without prospect of either wealth or beauty, waswending her way down the green tangle of the berry patch. Somehow thecomfort seemed to outweigh the misfortune. Gavin's escape from direpunishment gave her a feeling of exultation that even a pink satinribbon would fail to produce. 

A shout from Sandy away down in the green nook where they had lefttheir dinner pail under a log, quickened her footsteps. She found himtrampling down the berry-bushes in a vain search for the refreshments, for Sandy was thirteen and in a chronic state of starvation. 

"Where on earth you been?" he enquired, in mingled relief and wrath. "I thought you must be dead and buried. I'm so hungry my back-bone'scomin' out at the front. "

Christina giggled. One could never remember one's troubles in Sandy'sgay presence. She dived into the cool cavern beneath the mossy log andcame out with their dinner. Sandy helped her unpack it feverishly. Mother had put up a very comforting lunch for a starving boy and girl;thick sandwiches of bread and pork, scones soaked in Maple Syrup, ahalf-dozen cookies, a bottle of milk and two generous wedges of pie. 

When Sandy had eaten enough to make speech possible he pointedtriumphantly to his full pail. 

"Say! What do you think? I've beat you!" He cried in amazement, "Idid a perfect moose of a day's work. The quarter's mine!"

"Well, I've just as much right to it as you have, " declared Christina, who did not believe in letting her good deeds waste their sweetness onthe desert air of a berry patch. "I had my pail heaped a dozen times, and shook down too, and Gavin Hume spilled all his on an ant hill, andhe said Old Skinflint would thrash him, so I gave him mine. "

"You did!" Sandy grunted. Christina was always doing things like that. "Well you're a silly. Why can't he keep his berries when he picks 'em?Never mind, " he added, having reached the pie, and feeling generous, "I'll give you half the money, and we'll get some gum and a box o'paints. "

Christina did not dare confess how she had planned to spend the money, and was not much comforted by his offer. Even paints would notpermanently improve one's complexion. 

"Sandy, " she said at last, with much hesitation, "do you, --who do youthink is the prettiest girl in our school?"

Sandy stared. He belonged to the Stone Age as yet, and knew nothing ofthe decorative, and less about girls. He had no notion that they wereclassified at all, except as little girls and big girls. 

"How do _I_ know?" he enquired, rather indignantly, as though hissister had suspected him of secret knowledge of a crime. "I don't knowany that's good lookin', " he added conclusively. 

"Our Mary's awful pretty, " suggested Christina pensively. 

"Is she?" Sandy lay back in gorged content, and gazed up into theswaying green sea of the Maples. "I bet she knows it mighty well, then, let me tell you. "

"I heard the Grant Girls and Mrs. Johnnie Dunn talkin', when I was awayback by Grants' fence. They were talkin' about our girls, and FloraGrant said they were all, --said that Ellen and Mary were sogood-lookin' that she watched them in church. "

Sandy was showing signs of interest. He sat up. "What did they sayabout you?"

"Flora said I was a 'nice bit lassock, ' but Mrs. Johnniesaid, "--Christina could not bring herself to tell the humiliatingtruth--"she said I wasn't like the rest, " she finished falteringly. 

Sandy was beginning to wake up to the fact that Christina was indistress. Why any human being should worry about her appearance wassomething far beyond Sandy's comprehension, but he could not endure tosee Christina worried. He caught up a stone and shied it across thesunny tangle at an old Crow perched on a tall black stump. 

"Sugar, " he declared. "Who cares for what Mrs. Johnnie says? Shelooks like our old brindle cow herself. Duke Simms says she's gotchilblains on her temper. "

His stormy attack upon the enemy proved very bracing to the one who hadbeen so recently overthrown by her. 

"But the Grant girls said so too, " she added, searching for morecomfort. 

"Just as if they knew, " scoffed Sandy. "They're a lot of old rainbows, Duke says they are. Looks don't matter anyhow. It don't get you onany faster in school. "

Christina, much encouraged, reflected upon this aspect of the case. 

"I don't care, " she decided courageously, making a new resolve, thathad nothing to do with hair or complexion. "I'm going to study awfulhard at school and beat everybody in the class, and then I'm going tocollege some day and be a lady. You'll just see if I don't. And it'llbe far better to be clever than to be good-lookin', won't it, Sandy?"

That was just eight years ago, and now on her nineteenth birthdayChristina was calling to mind with some amusement the humiliation ofthat day, and with some discouragement, that the high resolve of thatoccasion was far from being realised. 

She came up the path from the barn, where the rays of the early sunmade rosy lanes between the pink and white boughs of the orchard. ForChristina had been born in the joyous May-time, and the whole farm wasbedecked for the occasion. She was tall and straight and carried hertwo pails of milk with easy grace. The light through the orchardboughs touched her fair hair and made it shining gold. Her eyes wereas blue as the strip of sky above her, and her cheeks were as pink asthe apple blossoms. Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's judgment had not been reversedby the years, Christina was still a long way from being one of theLindsay beauties. But she possessed an abundance of that lovelinessthat always accompanies youth and health and a merry heart. 

She was not quite so gay as usual this morning. She felt that sheought to be grave and dignified, as befitted a person who was so old. It was no joke, this being nineteen, just next-door to twenty, when youwanted still to play with the dog or chase Sandy round the stack. Agemakes one retrospective, too, and she was reflecting how far short shehad come of attaining the great ambition born eight years ago in theraspberry patch. For here she was, on her nineteenth birthday, stillmilking cows and feeding calves, with not even a school teacher'scertificate to her credit. 

She had not failed to put forth every effort to attain, but somehoweach high endeavour had turned out like the race for the quarter dollarin the berry patch; she was always just about to grasp the prize, whensome unfortunate picker fell across her path with a spilled pail. 

There was that day when she and Mary and Sandy were all ready to go toHigh School together. But Father died that summer, and it was decreedthat the expense of three in the town could not be met. So Christinastayed, partly because the other two were older, but mostly becauseMary cried bitterly at the suggestion that Christina go in her place. 

Then there came a second chance when Sandy had graduated and started toteach school, but Grandpa took very ill and could not bear that sheleave him. The third time proved the charm, for she did get away, andfor a whole year spread her wings gloriously in Algonquin High School. She did wonders, too, taking two years' work in one, but the crops werepoor the next year and Mary had to take her term at the Teachers'Training School, and the expense for two could not be met. 

And so here she was at nineteen, burning to be up and away, and vowingto herself that not another year would pass over her head and find herstill in Orchard Glen milking cows and feeding chickens. 

The world about her did not seem to be in accord with her thoughts. Itwas full of joy and contentment with its beautiful lot. The robins inthe gay orchard boughs were shouting that it was a glorious place tolive in. Away up in the elm tree before the house an oriole wasblowing his little golden trumpet, his flashing coat rivalling the rowof scarlet and golden tulips that bordered the garden path. The littlegreen lawn before the house sparkled under a diamond-spangled web. 

From beyond the pink and white screen of the orchard came the happysounds of the barnyard; the clatter of the bars as Sandy turned thecows into the back lane; Old Sport's bark; Jimmie's high voice scoldingthe calf that was trying to swallow the pail for breakfast; the squealof hungry little pigs; the clatter of hens and many other voices makingup the Barnyard Spring Song. 

Christina's pet kitten, a tiny black blot on the pink and green, camedaintily down the path to meet her, mindful of her two pails of warmmilk. Sport, who had succeeded in putting the cows into their places, came bounding up in a fit of boisterous familiarity, and leaped at thelittle black ball with a gay, "Woof! How are you this morning, you useless black mite?"

Two indignant green spots flamed up in the blackness and the miteitself turned into a fierce little bow, bent to shoot, and in a flash, bow quiver and all shot like lightning up the tree, spitting arrows inall directions. 

Christina forgot all about her ambitions and laughed aloud, and Sportjoined her, leaping around her and laughing silently in his own dogfashion with tongue and tail. It was very hard to remember that onewas nineteen and had never been anywhere nor attained anything, impossible to remember when the orchard was aflame in the sunrise, andthe oriole was shouting from the elm tree. Christina burst into song, just as spontaneously as the robins. 

It was a very foolish song, too, one that Jimmie had brought home fromAlgonquin High School:

 "Oh, Judy O'Toole, It's you that's the fool, For lavin' the county o' Cork. Oh, Judy O'Toole, It's you that's the fool, That iver ye came to New York!"

Ellen, her eldest sister, was frying the pork and potatoes forbreakfast in the old summer kitchen. She looked through the door asthe singer passed. 

"Christine!" she called reprovingly. "Whatever will that girl singnext?"

Uncle Neil, who was drying his hands on the roller towel at the door, laughed indulgently. 

"It isn't jist the kind of a hymn that would do for prayer-meeting, " hesaid. "Hi, Christine! Is that a new psalm tune you're practisin'?"

But, Christina and her song had disappeared into the spring house. This was a little stone structure, built into the grassy hill behindthe house. Down beside it, overhung with willows, a little springgushed out of the sand, clear and cold on the hottest summer days. Andso, in the little stone building, Christina's butter was always sweetand hard, like golden bricks. 

She set about her work with swift motions. It was necessary to workharder than usual to-day, to get rid of the ache to be away doingsomething else. She set the separator whirling, giving out its droningsong of plenty--the farm Matins and Vespers. 

"Jimmie, " she called up the little stone stairway, "hurry down here, Lazybones, and turn the Gramophone. "

A big clumsy boy, whose body was getting ahead of his mind in the racefor maturity, came thumping down the steps with the calves' emptypails. He pulled a loose strand of his sister's hair as he seized thehandle of the separator. 

"Now, Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, " he warned, "don't go orderin' your bettersround. "

Their work was brightened with a great deal of merry nonsense. ForChristina always made holiday of all toil, and even Jimmie, who waspassing through the weary period of boyhood, when any effort isinsupportable, found it amusing to work with her. 

"I suppose, now that you're nineteen, you'll be gettin' a fellow, " heteased, as he watched her wash the separator and put it out in the sun. "It's time you had one. "

"Yes, I was thinking that too, " said Christina agreeably. "I wasplanning that I would get Mike Duffy to be my beau, now that you're sosweet on Big Rosie. It would be so nice to be married into the samefamily. "

Jimmie gave a squall of rage and disgust. Rosie Duffy was a hugefreckled-faced girl, to whom, in a moment of generous weakness, he hadgiven a ride from town, and Christina had used the fact to his undoingever since. 

He caught up the calves' pails of milk and fled up into the sunshine. It was never safe to tease Christina, you always got back far worsethan you gave. 

When he came back to the house the family was gathering for itsbreakfast, and a fine big family it was. There were just two absent, the father, who was taking his well-earned rest in the grassy churchyard on the hill, and Allister, the eldest son, who had gone west tenyears ago to make his fortune and had not been home since. 

Uncle Neil MacDonald took his place at the head of the table, where hehad sat ever since the father left it. Uncle Neil was very muchbeloved, but he was in no sense the head of the family. He was a gay, easy-going body, given to singing songs and playing the fiddle, and notat all calculated to keep a virile group of boys and girls in order. So, John, the eldest son at home, was the real head of the family, andhis mother's support. For John was wise and strong and many, manyyears older than Uncle Neil. 

Ellen, the busy housewife, came next. She was just as handsome as whenMiss Flora Grant used to look at her in church, and since she had grownup many other admiring eyes looked her way. Neil, who was going to bea minister, but who was very much of a farmer this morning, sat byJohn. Neil was already in College, and Mr. Sinclair, the minister ofOrchard Glen, who made it his boast that in twenty-five years of hisministry the Orchard Glen church had not been without itsrepresentative in Knox College, declared that not one of the train hadcome up to Neil Lindsay in intellect, and that the world and the churchwould hear of him one day. 

Mary was the family beauty, all pink and white with glossy curls, andSandy was still Christina's chum and confidant, and the last wasJimmie, hovering between boyhood and manhood. There was a plate setfor Grandpa Lindsay, who had not yet appeared. He was rarely quite intime for the early farm breakfast, but he was always on the scenebefore they separated, to conduct family worship. His bedroom was offthe winter kitchen, where the breakfast was laid, and they could hearhim moving about singing and talking to himself. 

Mrs. Lindsay was a little woman with a sweet, strong face covered witha network of wrinkles. Her hands were calloused and discoloured andher back was bent with hard work, but her eyes were bright, and herheart was still as young as her family. 

"And it's nineteen you are to-day, hinny, " she cried, looking atChristina fondly. 

Christina made a wry face. "Yes, isn't it awful? I don't want to beso old. "

"Hut, tut, old, " laughed Uncle Neil. "Your mother and father were ontheir way from the Old Country when she was nineteen, and Allister wasa baby. "

Christina mentally decided that even crossing the ocean to a strangecountry was not at all as bad as staying for nineteen years in the sameplace, but she did not say so. 

"Well, it's pretty nice to be nineteen, isn't it?" said Neil. "If itwasn't seeding time John and I would take a day off and go on a picnic. "

"I wish something would happen, " said Christina recklessly, "somethingawfully surprising. "

"You might go out and hoe up that back field of corn, " suggested Sandy. "That would surprise John and me more than anything. "

"But it wouldn't surprise me a bit and I'm the person concerned. Nothing in the shape of work could possibly surprise me any more. Itwould have to be a spree of some sort. "

"Well, " said Ellen, who was always sensible and practical, "be thankfulthat nothing unpleasant is happening. Anybody would think you wouldlike the barn to burn down. "

It was rather a noisy breakfast, for the Lindsays were a bright crowdin spite of much hard work, and Christina and Sandy were always makingmerry over something. They were just finishing when Grandpa came inwith his toddling step and his usual exclamation of pleased surprised, "Eh, well, well, and you're all here!"

Christina ran for the ancient Bible that lay on the shelf in thecorner, with Grandpa's spectacles upon it. Ellen fetched his old redcushion from the sofa in the corner, and Grandpa sat down slowly andheavily. He had never been heard to complain in all his hard-workedlife, nor in his years of approaching age, but at the morning worshiphe always chose a portion of scripture that accorded with his feelings. So when he read the 103rd psalm, his sister smiled, evidently he feltin accord with the radiant May morning. Grandpa was very deaf andlaboured under the idea that every one else was similarly afflicted, sohe read and prayed in a very loud voice. But the Lindsays were allused to it. This early morning worship set the standard for the day'swork. And led by Grandpa who had travelled far up on the road ofsaintship, it fortified young and old for the day's toil andtemptations. 

When it was over the family hurried away to their tasks. John and thepreacher-farmer went off to the brown fields, Ellen went to her bakingand washing. Jimmie shouldered his books and set off on his Mondaymorning tramp to the High School in Algonquin, from which he would notreturn until Friday night. Sandy put off his farm overalls, and droveup from the barn with the single buggy; and Mary, with a trim dust-coatover her pretty blue dress, came tripping down the orchard path andclimbed into the buggy at his side. Mary taught school at a littlecorner called Greenwood, a couple of miles down the concession, andSandy taught just two miles farther on. So every morning the two droveaway to their schools and returned in the evening. Christina ran downthe lane to open the gate for them. 

"Now, be good, and don't go and do anything very wild just because it'syour birthday, " called Sandy. 

"Oh, Christine, " cried Mary, "don't let Ellen forget to wash my pinkdress; I got some mud on it yesterday. And if you could iron it like adear, I'd be ever so much obliged. "

Christina promised willingly, and waved them a gay good-bye. She stoodat the gate watching them as they turned down the broad white road. That road could be seen for miles from where she stood, winding awaydown over hill and through wooded hollow. It disappeared in a belt offorest but came into view again running along the margin of Lake Simcoefar off on the horizon, and away beyond her view it ended in a greatcity where Christina had never been. But that road always set herheart beating faster. It was the great highway that led out into theworld, the road she longed to take. And always in the morning when shestood at the gate thus, just before turning back to the tasks that heldher, it seemed to beckon her to come away. 

And then she ran back to the barnyard to feed her chickens, and madethe second Great Discovery about herself. 

Uncle Neil came out of the noisy enclosure where the pigs were fightingwith their morning meal, and helped her throw the feed to herquarrelsome brood. Uncle Neil had for years been a semi-invalid andspent his time doing the lighter work of the farm and garden. Thoughhe had attended school only a few years in his childhood, he had a mindstored with the wealth of years of reading, held by an unfailingmemory. And now that his physical ailments gave him more leisure, hewas reading everything that was worth while that came to his hand. Andhe gave out his wealth generously to Christina as they did their workevery morning in the barnyard. 

They laughed together at one old hen whom Christina had named Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, after the one woman in Orchard Glen who managedeverything and everybody on her farm. Her namesake of the barnyardruled all the other hens and saw to it that she was well providedherself. 

"She never waits for Opportunity's bald spot, now does she?" said UncleNeil, admiringly, as the busy, fussy lady made a leap and caught agrain of corn, in mid-air, while another hen was watching for it tofall upon the ground. 

"What's Opportunity's bald spot?" enquired Christina. "How dare youhave some information you haven't given me?"

"Don't you know the old story about Opportunity and his bald spot?"enquired Uncle Neil delighted. 

And then he told the ancient tale of Opportunity and his lock of hairthat hung in front, and Christina listened with more than her usualabsorption. She was making her second discovery. 

"There!" she exclaimed, with an energy that sent the hens scurryingaway, alarmed, from her feet. "That's just what's the matter with me. I am always letting Mr. Opportunity walk past and then when I try tograb him I catch hold of his bald spot and he slips away. "

"Well, well, " said Uncle Neil, "I don't think he's walked past you veryoften. You're but nineteen to-day. "

"I'm sure that's bad enough. That's nearly twenty, and then you're outof your teens. When I was eleven I made a solemn vow that I'd get agood education and go away off somewhere and attend college and be alady. And here I am at nineteen, still feeding the pigs and milkingthe cows. I guess I haven't any of the Lindsay luck. "

"The Lindsay luck was always spelled with a p in front, my lass, and acapital P at that. You can have all of that ye want. "

They went back up the blossoming orchard path, stopping at the pump, which was mid-way to the house, to take up a pail of water. They leftit at the back door under the vines, and Uncle Neil went round to thegarden at the other side of the old rambling house, to help his sisterwith her onions. Christina ran round to the side door where Grandpawas sitting in the sun on the old sloping porch. The old man saw hercoming and drew back behind the vines. As she shot round the corner ofthe house he poked out his head suddenly with a loud and alarming "Boo!"

Christina jumped back with a scream that set the old man laughingheartily and kept him chuckling for an hour afterwards. Every morningof her life Grandpa played this little trick upon her from some corner, and Christina never forgot to scream in terror, and Grandpa's amusementwas never abated. 

She slapped him for frightening her, adding hugely to his enjoyment, and ran on into the kitchen. Ellen was almost ready to put the clotheson the line and Christina gave her a helping hand before going on withher own work, reminding her meanwhile of the pink dress that must beready before the evening. 

"We'll have to hire a woman to do the baking, and I guess Grandpa'llhave to do the washing when you leave, " declared Christina. "I'd makea bargain with Bruce, if I were you, that he's to do the washinghimself, before I'd marry him. "

Ellen laughed gaily. She and Bruce McKenzie had been sweethearts eversince their public school days, and the next Christmas they were goingto start life together on Bruce's farm. Ellen was very radiant thesedays and Christina's warnings were a source of amusement. 

When the snowy array was hung in the sunshine, Christina went down intothe cool spring house to her churning. She stood at the door, whirlingthe dasher and looking up into the blossoming orchard, but seeing noneof it. She was really very much concerned over this bald spot of Mr. Opportunity. She had surely let him slip past her many a time, andhere she was at nineteen and who knew if he would come again?

"I just _won't_ stay here working at you forever, now, mind that, " shecried, slapping the butter viciously with her wooden paddle. "Just letMr. Opportunity come along once more, and see if I let him go! Neveragain!"

And then she made a daring resolution. She would dress up, even if itwas Monday morning, and go away down to the village, and see if someevent wouldn't happen. Something told her that a great adventure wasawaiting her just out there on the road if she would only go to meet it. 

She packed away the butter in its firm golden bars, and went into thehouse. As she crossed the grassy open space, an old-fashioned doublebuggy went rattling down the road. Some one in the back seat waved agay parasol at her, and Christina responded with a flap of her apron. 

It was two of the three Miss Grants going to town with their adoptednephew, Gavin Hume, who was now Gavin Grant. For the very summer thatChristina had given her berries to the abused little orphan, the Grantsisters had rescued him from the dire possibility of being taken Westby the Skinflint Jenkinses who were moving to the prairies. Gavin hadgrown very dear to the old ladies, and indeed it was the joke of theneighbourhood how much they petted him. 

"There's Oor Gavie with two of his Aunties, " called Christina to Ellen, who was looking through the door to see who was passing. "I guess theyare taking him to town to help him choose a new necktie. "

Ellen laughed. The Grant Girls, as they were still called, werecertainly foolish enough over Gavin to do it. They were still Mrs. Lindsay's closest friends, and "Oor Gavie's" virtues were well known inthe Lindsay family. 

"I'm all done now, " declared Christina, standing in the middle of thekitchen, and waving her apron vigorously. "And as it is my birthday, Ithink I'll go off and look for an adventure. I feel as if something'sgot to happen to-day, or I'll set fire to the house. "

Her elder sister turned from her pie-baking to look at her. "Well, mygoodness, " she exclaimed, "sometimes I think you're not in your rightmind. " Ellen was staid and steady and well behaved and could nevercomprehend Christina's restlessness. "Whatever do you want now?"

"I want to go to the University; that's the exact truth. But as Ican't go before dinner, I believe I'll walk down into the villageinstead, and see if I can meet Mr. Opportunity. "

"Mr. What?" asked Ellen in alarm. If Christina had any smallest notionof dressing up and parading the village street when the young men camedown to the corner, as some of the girls did, she, Ellen, would lookafter her right thoroughly. "Who's he?"

Christina laughed uproariously. "Oh, I must tell Uncle Neil!" shecried. "Don't worry, he's awfully old and bald, so there's no danger. "

She darted out to the garden to share the joke with Uncle Neil, andthen she slipped into the house, unnoticed, and up to her own room. She felt as excited as if she were planning to run away. She dressedvery carefully in her afternoon gingham of blue that looked pale besidethe colour of her eyes. She made a coronal of her heavy golden brownbraids, winding them round her shapely head, making a face at herselfin the glass because the hair was so straight and her nose was sofreckled. And then she slipped down the stairs like a thief and randown the path behind the spring house. She would not have confessedit, even for a college course, but she was wondering if, in this wildexpedition to meet Mr. Opportunity, one might not meet one's DreamKnight riding out there on the highway. For though Christina had neverhad a lover, she had her true Knight, who rode just beyond the horizon. And why shouldn't she meet him to-day? Anything wonderful was liableto happen on a May morning when you were just nineteen and were runningaway from the beaten track in search of adventure. 

The path that ran down behind the spring house and across the corner ofthe clover field was the Short Cut to the village. It ran into alittle grove, and there Sandy had made a very primitive stile to enableMary to get over the fence without spoiling her Sunday clothes. Allthe fields were bordered with a fringe of feathery green bushes, fromwhich rose the sweet roundelays of the song sparrows. The meadow larkssoared and called to each other over the green-brown carpet of theearth, and away up against the dazzling blue of the sky thebob-o'-links danced and trilled. Christina gave a joyous skip as sheentered the little grove. There the sunlight lay on the underbrush ingreat golden splashes, and the White Throat called "Canada, Canada, Canada, " as if he could never leave off. 

She ran joyously down the pathway that led to the road, and there, justat the edge of the stile, under the low bushes, her sharp eye caughtsomething white. Her heart gave a leap; here, surely, was the GreatAdventure waiting for her. She ran forward and found a basket hiddenaway under the stile. It was covered carefully with a newspaper, and, wonder of wonders, bore a card with her name, "Miss Christina Lindsay. "She pulled it out breathlessly and tore off the cover. Beneath was aperfect glory of garden flowers, great crimson and golden tulips, narcissi, waxy white with golden hearts, purple hyacinths, filling thewoods with their perfume, and such a wealth of daffodils as would takeaway the breath. 

Christina stood with her arms full, and looked at them with a feelingthat was very much like dismay. There was only one garden in thetownship that could produce a basket like that, and it belonged to hermother's friends, the Grant Girls, but Christina well knew they had notsent her the birthday gift. In a corner of the card was written invery small letters, "From G. G. "

Though Christina was nineteen she had never had what was termed inOrchard Glen society, "a fellow. " There was no girl having reachedsuch an age without the pleasant experience of a special notice fromsome young man, but must stop and ask herself the reason. Christinahad long ago put her poverty down to her lack of beauty. But she wasnot very much troubled over it, for her Dream Knight still rode gailyjust beyond the horizon, and who knew when he might not ride up to herdoor? But though his outlines were very hazy, Christina knew in herheart that he was altogether and entirely unlike Gavin Grant. 

Gavin was shy and awkward, and had lived so long away on the backconcession with his Aunties, where the grass grew in the middle of thecorduroy road, that he had grown as queer and old-fashioned as theywere. But ever since the day Christina had saved him from SkinflintJenkins' horse-whip, he had shown a tendency to follow her withadoringly humble eyes. He had made no further attempt to attract herattention until now. And here was his first gift! And worst of all hemust have told his Aunts about it! Christina hastily pushed the basketback, and seating herself upon the stile, looked down at it. 

The first offering from Love's treasure house could not but make theheart beat faster; but what a disappointment that it should comethrough Gavin Grant of all people! How Jimmie would tease her, and howMary would laugh--Mary, who had so many beaux sending her presents thatshe did not know what to do with them all. And Sandy, --no, Sandy wouldnot laugh. Sandy liked Gavin and said he was one of the best fellowshe knew. But his virtues were not the sort that a Dream Knightpossessed, especially when you were only nineteen and out on the roadfor adventure. 

Christina sat on the stile and gazed down the road that crossed thelittle brown stream and then became the village street. She could seethe church spire above the orchard trees, and hear the "cling clung" ofMark Falls' blacksmith shop, and the shouts of the school children outfor their morning recess. But there was no smallest sign of anadditional adventure. Evidently this was the announcement of her fate. And as she sat there, filled with restless longing, a car appeared in acloud of dust away on the hilltop at the other end of the village, andeven in the midst of her disappointment Opportunity was speedingtowards her on rapid wheels. 

CHAPTER II

AWAY FROM ORCHARD GLEN

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, driving home from town in her new Ford car, spundown the hill and through the village, without even stopping at thepost office. 

Mrs. Dunn was the only truly emancipated woman of Orchard Glen; herhusband was a quiet, shy little man, whom every one called "Marthy, "and he always referred proudly to his clever wife as "The Woman. " Shemanaged her husband, her household, her farm, and a dozen otherenterprises such as no woman was ever supposed to be able to manage, and did it all in such a thoroughly capable manner that she was theenvy and the scandal of the whole neighbourhood. 

Her latest escapade had been to buy up the old Simms place, next to herown farm, turn it all into pasture for cows, buy a milking machine anda Ford car, and go dashing into town every morning with milk for a listof customers that astonished all the milkmen of the district. And sheoften came tearing back to her day's work when the lazy village folkwere shaking the breakfast tablecloth out of the back door!

As she came storming down into the village on this bright May morning, Marmaduke Simms was sitting on the store veranda as usual, with his pegleg displayed upon a soap box, as his eternal excuse for his idleness. But there was no excuse for Trooper Tom Boyd, The Woman's own nephew, whose two perfectly good legs were stretched out beside him, and all inthe middle of a morning in the middle of seeding!

Trooper Tom had once ridden the prairies in the Mounted Police force, but though he had been one of the most fearless riders of the plains, he was frankly afraid of his Aunt. He had fully intended to be back inthe field before her return, and now, when her car appeared upon thehill half-an-hour earlier than it should have come, he gave a start ofdismay. 

"Great Ghosts, " cried Marmaduke, "it's The Woman, sure as death!"

Trooper Tom gathered his long limbs together in one swift spasm, andleaped to cover through the store door-way. 

"I ain't a bit scairt of her, Tilly, " he remarked to the store-keeper'sdaughter, as he landed tumultuously against the counter, "but I justremembered all of a sudden that I wanted to buy a box o' matches. "

Tilly leaned against the counter and went off into a spasm of giggles, while the car stormed past the store in a cloud of reproving dust. Marmaduke reached his head around the door-post. "She's gone, Trooper, " he whispered, as though afraid that The Woman might hear, "and, say, I guess you're goin' to have swell company. She's got apassenger, and he waved his hat at me and yelled. "

Trooper ventured out upon the veranda, followed by Tilly. 

"Like as not he was yellin' for help, " he suggested. "It's a man, sureenough, Trooper, " said Tilly, with a giggle. "Guess she's goin' togive you the sack, and she's brought him out to do the seedin'. "

"Too good to be true, " sighed the young man mournfully. "'Most likelyit's an implement agent. The Woman's always buyin' something new madeo' wheels. "

"She'll be gettin' a machine to wind you up and set you goin' at fourin the mornin', " said Duke comfortingly. "Sit down and have a smoke, she'll know you're gone in a minit anyhow. "

Meanwhile the car bumped across the little bridge that spanned thecreek and went storming up the opposite hill. And at the top of thehill sat Christina Lindsay on the fence top wishing with all her mightand main that Mr. Opportunity would come out and meet her. 

As soon as Mrs. Johnnie Dunn saw her, she stopped her car opposite thestile with a word to the man at her side. He picked up his suit-caseand stepped hurriedly from the car. 

"Hello, there, Christine!" shouted The Woman, over the stranger'sshoulder, "here's a man from Algonquin wants a place to board. Do youthink your mother'd take him?"

The stranger came forward looking intently at Christina, with a twinklein his eye. He was stout, with iron-grey hair. His bronzed face wasgood to look at, and he had a loud hearty voice, and a breezy manner. He raised his hat with elaborate politeness. 

"I hope you can take a stranger in for a week or two, " he said. "Iheard that the Lindsays are noted for their hospitality. "

"I'm afraid we can't, but I'll ask mother, " said Christina, coming downoff the fence to a more formal position. She spoke rather stiffly, forthe stranger's air of easy familiarity rather put her on her dignity. 

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn still sat in her churning car and looked on withlaughing eyes. "Take him along up home and show him to your Ma, andsee if she likes him, " she shouted "'cause if youse folks won't keephim, I'll have to cart him back to town. "

The stranger burst into a laugh. It was a big, hearty, noisy laugh, with something in it that arrested Christina's attention. He shut uphis eyes just the way Sandy did, and he showed his two rows of teethjust like Neil, and he threw back his head exactly like John, and itsurely couldn't be, and yet it really was, ----

"Allister!" screamed Christina, and the next moment she was over thefence, with her arms tight round the stranger's neck, and was sayingover and over, "Oh, Allister, Allister, I just knew something awfullygood was going to happen, and it's you!"

And The Woman, who could carry through a business deal with a high handand was a terror in a bargain, sat in her car and watched the brotherand sister, with the tears blurring her vision. 

It was not until the day's work was done and the reunited family weregathered round the supper table that the Lindsays had time to realisethe wonderful fact that Allister had come home. 

He sat in the centre of an admiring circle and told all his experiencesof the past ten years, shouting occasional bits of the history toGrandpa, who was sitting devouring him with his eyes. 

There were the first hard years when everything went wrong; the year hewas hailed out, and the year the frost got everything, and the year ofthe great prairie fires when he was on the verge of throwing everythingup and coming back to Ontario. But there had been good years inbetween and finally he had begun to move up the hill. Everything inthe West moved in the same direction, and now he had a big ranch andsome coal mine shares, and building lots in Prairie Park where realestate was going up like a sky rocket. 

And the truth of the matter was that if everything went all right hewould be a rich man some day not far distant. And he was planning thatwhen he sold out and got from under some of his schemes he would comehome and fix up the old farm and make it the finest place in Ontario. He was going to buy all the new machinery for John, and have electriclight, ----

"And a piano, " put in Christina, "we need one far worse than we need ahay loader, don't we, Mary?"

"You'll have one some day if I go bust, " shouted Allister, and went onto tell of profits and prices and real estate deals. His mother's facelooked a little wistful, but if there was rather much talk of money andnone of the wealth that thieves cannot steal, she put aside herdisappointment. Allister was home, he was well and prosperous and thatwas surely enough happiness for one day. She sat beside him, keepingtight hold of his hand, patting it occasionally and repeating Gaelicwords of endearment, precious words he had not heard since he was achild and which brought a sting to his eyes. 

The family conference did not last long, for the neighbours had heardthat Allister Lindsay was home from the West, and the chores were notnearly completed when visitors began to arrive to welcome the longabsent one. The girls hurried about their work, while Allister ranhere and there and got in every one's way. He followed Christina downto the milking and back again to the spring house and helped her withthe separator, and she was rapturously happy that he should single herout for special notice. 

He was back at the barnyard with Uncle Neil again, when she came out ofthe barn with a basket of eggs. Uncle Neil was turning the cows intothe back lane to drive them up to the pasture. 

"Here, Uncle Neil, let me do that, " cried Allister. "I want to seewhat it feels like to drive the cows to the back pasture again. Hurrahhere, Christine! Come along with me, for fear I get lost!"

Christina fairly threw her basket of eggs at Uncle Neil, and ran afterher brother. They walked hand in hand up the lane like a couple ofchildren. 

"Maybe you wanted to go back to the house and get dolled up before theboys come, " he said, looking down at her big milking apron. 

Christina eyed him suspiciously. She was wondering if he was thinkingthat she needed much more fixing up than her sisters. 

"No, " she answered, "I'm beautiful enough without. It's just girlslike Ellen and Mary that need to be fussing over their looks. "

Allister looked down at her in admiration that was impossible tomistake. 

"By ginger, you're right, " he shouted heartily; "you're the sort of agirl for me. Say, what would you say to coming out West and keepinghouse for me?"

Here was Opportunity come back to her! Christina seized him tightly. 

"Oh, my! Wouldn't that be grand. It would be the very best--well, the_second_ best thing in the world!"

"And what would be the very best?"

"To go to the University with Sandy next Fall!" she answered promptly. 

"Well, I declare!" Allister laughed, "you've all been bitten by theeducation bug. Mr. Sinclair used to say that if father was to changethe catechism, he'd have it read: 'Man's chief end is to glorify Godand get a good education. '"

"Just what I believe exactly!" declared Christina, who was tremblingwith excitement. 

"But girls go and get married, or ought to, " said Allister practically. 

"Well, I hope I will some day, " confessed Christina. "I don't want tobe an old maid like the Auntie Grants. But I want to go away fromOrchard Glen first, and see what the world's like--and get a grandeducation and know heaps and do something great--oh, I don't know what, but just something like you read about in the papers!"

The cows were in the pasture by this time, and as Allister put up thebars he said, "Let's set down here for a few minutes and settle this matter. "

Christina perched herself at his side on the top of the low rail fence. The soft May mists were gathering in the valleys, the orchards shonepink in the sunset. Away down in the beaver meadow the frogs weretuning up for their first overture of evening, and a whippoorwill farup in the Slash had begun to sing his lonely song to the dark hillside. Allister looked about him and uttered a great sigh of contentment. 

"Oh, it's great to be home again, " he breathed. "Now that I don't haveto keep my nose to the grindstone I'm going to come home oftener. Things change so. We may never all be home again together. "

"Well, I'd be sorry for that, " said Christina, who was fairly dancingwith impatience. "But I'd be sorrier if I thought things wouldn'tchange. We don't want to live here for ever and ever just as we are. "

"No, of course not. But I hope some of us will always be in OrchardGlen. John always will. "

"I suppose so. John's spent all his life working hard for the rest ofus, " cried Christina, "and I suppose he'll go on doing it to the end. "

"There's nobody better than John, " declared Allister. "But let me tellyou this, that the man or woman, either, who gives up all his chance inlife to somebody else is bound to come out with the small end of thestick. It sounds fine, but it don't pay. " Allister spoke with theassurance of the successful man of business. "There's a certain amountof looking out for Number One that's necessary in this pleasant world. "

Christina was silent. Her heart told her he must be wrong, but shecould not have argued the matter if she would. It did not seempossible that John's life of self-sacrifice and devotion had been amistake. Something that Neil was always quoting was running throughher head, "There is no gain except by loss. " She could not recall itfully, but she remembered distinctly another quotation, "Whosoever willlose his life for my sake, shall find it. "

"Well, we're all getting on in the world all right, " cried Allisterheartily. "I tell you, our family's doing fine. And if I make my pileas I hope to, we'll all do better. I'd like to be able to give Neiland Sandy a lift, but Sandy's ready to go next Fall to the Universityanyway. And it'll be a good while before Jimmie's ready. "

"Ellen and Bruce will be married some time next Fall, I expect, " saidChristina, going over the members of the family in her mind. 

"I hate to think of her as a farmer's wife, " said Allister. "If I hadher out West I'd do better than that for her, but I suppose I might aswell tell her I wanted to cut her head off. "

"I should think so!" laughed Christina; "it's a dreadful thing to be inlove. "

"Look as if Mary wouldn't be teaching school long either, eh?Mother'll soon be without a girl if they all keep going off like that. What about the one they call Christina?"

"Goody! We've come to Christina at last! Let's settle her case. Christina will stay at home and milk the cows and feed the pigs andbake and scrub and take the eggs and butter to Algonquin on Saturdays. She will be the old maid sister with the horny hands, who always bakesthe pies and cakes for Christmas when the family come home!"

Allister threw back his head and laughed into the coloured heavens tillthe echoes came back sharply from the whippoorwill's sanctuary on thehillside. 

"Never!" he cried heroically, waving the long stick with which he haddriven the cows up the lane. "Never! Let me die before I see the day!No, _siree_! Christina will go to the University and take all the goldmedals, or whatever truck it is they get there, and she'll be ahigh-brow and go travelling over the country lecturing on Women'sRights!"

"I do believe I'd do it, even the lecturing part, for the sake of thecollege course, " she declared. "Oh, Allister, I'm simply _aching_ toget away and have a good education and be--be _somebody_--even if it'sonly a Woman's Righter!"

"Hooroo! I'm with you. I guess your education won't break me. You'vegot the kind of spirit that's bound to win, so off you go. You getyour sunbonnet and all the fal-lals girls have to get, and be readynext Fall to finish your High School and then it's you for college!"

"Allister!" She turned to look at him. It just could not be that hemeant what he said. Her eyes were like stars in the twilight, hervoice sank to a whisper. 

"Allister! What are you saying?"

He laughed joyfully. "I'm saying that you can start out on the road toglory next September and I'll foot the bills!" he shouted. "You'redeaf as Grandpa!"

Christina suddenly realised that he really meant it; that the gloriousunbelievable thing upon which she had set her heart was hers. She gavea sudden spring from her seat to throw herself in an abandon ofgratitude upon her brother. But the leap had an entirely differentresult. The unsteady fence rail upon which she sat gave a lurch, turned over and Christina and it together went crashing into theraspberry and gooseberry bushes and thistles and stones of the fencecorner. 

Allister jumped from his perch to her assistance. 

"Gosh hang it, girl, " he cried, "you might have killed yourself!"

Christina staggered to her feet, scratched and dishevelled. "Oh, mygoodness!" she cried, "to think of killing myself at this suprememoment! If I had I'd never, never speak to myself again for missingthat University course!"

When they got back to the house Christina went about in a happy daze. There was no opportunity to do more than whisper the wonderful news toSandy, and then she had to fly about to help put everything in orderbefore the guests arrived. 

The Lindsay home was at all times a popular gathering-place of anevening, for there was always plenty of company and music there, and ajolly time. Indeed Uncle Neil was in the habit of saying that, whenthe milk pails were hung out along the shed they were like the Standardon the Braes o' Mar, for when the young fellows of the countryside sawthem, they came flocking over the hills. And indeed the last pail hadscarcely been washed and put in its place to-night when the firstvisitor appeared in the lane. 

Uncle Neil, coming up from the pump in the orchard, with two pails offresh water, announced that the whole MacKenzie family were comingacross the field, and burst into the song that always set Ellen'scheeks flaming. 

 "MacDonald's men, Clan Donald's men, MacKenzie's men, MacGillivray's men, Strath Allan's men, the Lowland men Are coming late and early!"

"MacGillivray's man's coming early to-night, Mary!" called Sandy. "There's his buggy comin' up the line! Man, it's easy to see he hasn'tany chores in the evening!"

"I'm all behind the times!" cried the new brother. "Tell me all aboutthis MacGillivray man. He's a new one!"

He caught hold of Mary as she came in from the spring house, but shedodged him. This MacGillivray man was a new and quite specialcavalier. He was no country boy from a neighbouring farm, but aprosperous young merchant from Port Stewart, a town some dozen milesaway on the lake shore. Driving through the country one bright day inearly spring, he had met Mary on her way to school, and had never gotover the sight. Since then he had driven out all the way to OrchardGlen many a night for a repetition of the vision. 

"Will you finish for me, Christine?" Mary whispered in a panic. "I'mnot fixed up yet, and he's coming up the lane. "

Christina promised and hurried her away. It didn't matter, shereflected, whether she was dressed in her best or her milking apron. There was no MacGillivray's man or MacKenzie's man, Highland orLowland, coming over the hills to see her. And then she suddenlyremembered with dismay the flowers that must be still lying under thebushes at the stile!

She hurried through her work, threw off her apron, smoothed her hair, and ran down the path to the grove. The evening shadows had fullpossession now, and there were no splashes of gold on the undergrowth. The veeries were ringing their bells in the tree tops and a cat birdwas fairly spilling out music of a dozen delightful varieties from ahidden corner behind a basswood bush. Christina ran down the path andparted the undergrowth. The basket was gone! She searched in everycorner. And then she remembered that on her way out to the milking shehad seen Gavin driving home from town. He had taken the basket back, lest she should not find it! She turned and went slowly back up thepath, feeling ashamed and a little relieved. He would never know thatshe had seen it, and yet it seemed too bad not to thank him for such abeautiful gift!

She hastened back to help Grandpa to bed. Grandpa always sang hisevening hymn just before he went to sleep, and as he lived in thebelief that every one was as deaf as himself, it was well to get theperformance over before the house was filled with company. 

Grandpa had a very ancient little hymn book with an orange cotton coverwhich had been one of Grandma's treasures, and which was now his mostprized possession. Grandma Lindsay had been a Methodist before hermarriage, and under her influence Grandpa had often been in danger ofwandering from the paths of Presbyterianism. He would have consideredit a great sin to confess that this old hymn book with its gospel songswas more to him than the psalms of David, and he would never havedreamed of introducing one of them into family worship. But he lovedevery line inside the tattered orange covers, and their bright melodieshad helped him over many a hard place after Grandma had left him. Hisfavourite hymn was the last in the book, "The Hindmost Hymn, " Grandpacalled it, and every night of his life, unless he were too ill, he sangat least one verse of its sweet promise, "On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden, Where the tree of Life is blooming, There is rest for you. There is rest for the weary, There is rest for the weary, There is rest for the weary, There is rest for you!"

"Aren't you too tired to sing the Hindmost Hymn to-night, Grandpa?"asked Christina slyly. But Grandpa did not fall into the trap. 

"Tired? Hoh! Me tired! And the Lad jist come home! Indeed it willbe more than a hymn I'll be raising to the Lord this night. I'll jistbe singing Him a psalm, too, for He has brought Joseph back to the landof Israel. "

Christina was ashamed of her subterfuge, and joined him in his psalm ofgratitude, feeling that she, too, should raise a song of thanksgivingfor all that had come to her on this wonderful day. So she joinedGrandpa's shaking notes in

 "Oh, thou, my soul, bless God the Lord; And all that in me is Be stirred up by His holy name To magnify and bless!"

And then they finished with every verse of the Hindmost Hymn. ThoughGrandpa never confessed it, he had a secret hope, every night, as helay down to sleep, that all his aches and pains might be at an end andthat the next morning he would waken "on the other side of Jordan, inthe sweet fields of Eden, " and he liked to close the day with thecheering words. 

So Christina sang it with him to the very end and then tucked him intohis big feather bed. She left his door into the winter kitchen ajar sothat he could hear the singing, which they were sure to have. Then shehelped her mother air the spare room for Allister, and put a littlefire in the shiny box stove in the hall, for the May evening was chilly. 

By the time she had finished all her little duties the house was fullof visitors. Mrs. Johnnie Dunn and "Marthy" were the first, the formereager to retell the manner of her introduction of Allister to hisfamily. 

The McKenzies, who lived on the next farm above, were all there, andBruce was helping Ellen carry chairs out to the veranda. The Browns, abig family who lived just across the road from the Lindsays, were inthe kitchen, and young Mr. MacGillivray's horse was in the stable andhe himself was seated in the parlour talking to Uncle Neil, and lookingat Mary. 

Then there was quite a little crowd coming up from the village, TillyHolmes and Joanna Falls, the blacksmith's handsome daughter, and Mr. And Mrs. Martin, who owned the mill, people of some consequence inOrchard Glen, for Mrs. Martin had been a school teacher before hermarriage. Then there was Burke Wright, who worked in the mill, and hislittle wife; Trooper Tom Boyd and his chum Marmaduke, and even Mr. Sinclair, the Presbyterian minister, and his wife, all come to dohonour to the long-absent son of Orchard Glen. 

Christina joined Tilly Holmes and Bell Brown and some more girls of herown age in a corner of the veranda and told them all about Allister'ssudden appearance, and how she had taken him for a stranger looking fora place to board, and how he had promised to send her to the HighSchool next Fall and then to the University with Sandy!

The young folk bunched together in the semi-darkness of the veranda, laughing and teasing, the older women gathered with Mrs. Lindsay in theparlour, and the men collected about Allister in the greater freedom ofthe kitchen, where coats could be laid aside and pipes taken out, andthey sat astride their chairs in the smoke and listened to him tellabout the prairies and the wheat crop of Alberta and the prices of realestate. 

It was just like a party, Christina felt, as she ran here and there, waiting on the guests, and trying hard not to think about the glory ofthe future. 

Uncle Neil came to the veranda door in his stocking feet and shirtsleeves. 

"Come away in here, you musicians, " he called, "Allister wants to hearsome of the old songs!"

There was much holding back and shoving of others forward, and manydeclarations of heavy colds and a rooted inability to sing at any time, but finally some of the girls were persuaded to move inside, and theboys followed. 

Minnie Brown was organist in the Methodist church, so she was invitedto the place of honour on the organ stool. Ellen lit the big lamp withthe pink shade, and Trem. Henderson, who was the leader in musicalcircles and whom everybody called Tremendous K. , was called in from thesmoky region of the kitchen to start the singing. 

They sang several of the old hymns first, so that Grandpa might enjoythem; and then Allister sent Sandy in from the kitchen to say that hemust have some of the good old rousing Scotch songs they used to singwhen he was home. So Mary brought out the old tartan-covered song-bookand they sang it through, from the dreamy wail of "Ye Banks and Braes"to the rollicking lilt of the Hundred Pipers when

 "Twa thousand swam ower to fell English ground, An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound!"

It was a grand old-time evening, such as was not so often indulged inas when times were newer and money scarce. When Mrs. Lindsay and thegirls had passed around cake and pie and big cups of tea thick withcream the festivity was over, and the company moved away down the lanein the soft May moonlight. 

And Christina and Sandy hung over the garden gate, like a pair oflovers, long after the last guest had gone, and made wonderful plansfor the future, when they would be going to the University together. 

CHAPTER III

"WHOSOEVER WILL LOSE HIS LIFE"

Christina was sitting in the old hammock on the veranda, ready forchurch. She had already done a big morning's work. For, though theSabbath was rigidly kept in the Lindsay home, and made a day of rest asmuch as possible, the usual multitude of barnyard duties had to beattended to, for the chickens and the pigs and the calves clamouredjust as loudly for their breakfast on Sabbath morning as any week day. 

But Christina's work was all done and she was neatly dressed; her heavygolden brown braids were placed in a shining crown about her head, andher freshly ironed white dress and her white canvas shoes wereimmaculate. For her keen sense of a lack of beauty had taught her thevalue of scrupulous neatness. She was studying her Sunday Schoollesson, and her white gown and her bright head bent over the open Bibleon her lap, made her look not unlike a young saint at her meditations;which was an entirely misleading picture, for Christina's mind wasrioting joyously across the University campus, far away from OrchardGlen and Sabbath calm, even though her eyes were reading words such asnever man spake, "Therefore, take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or drink. .. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?"

"Are you really ready?" cried Sandy in admiring astonishment, as hesettled himself beside her in the hammock. "You never take half asmuch time as the other girls to get dolled up!"

It was more than two months since Allister had gone back to the West, and Neil had left for his summer Mission Field away out on theprairies. July was marching over the hills, trailing the glory of herclover-blossom gowns, her arms ladened with sweet-smelling hay. Thepink blossoms were blown from the orchard and instead the trees werehung with a wealth of tiny green globes. Inside the house and aboutthe barnyard there were changes also, for Allister had been verygenerous, especially to John, and his labours had been very muchlightened by machinery. 

Christina sat with her fingers between the leaves of her Bible, herthoughts far away on the shining road to success which she and Sandywere so soon to take. For her the days could not move fast enough. 

"My, but I wish I didn't have that year of High School to put infirst, " she declared. "But then I suppose I wouldn't be satisfied if Iwere a B. A. And you a Ph. D. But I'm going to study like a runawayhorse next winter, " she added, growing incoherent in her joy, "andmaybe I'll catch up to you, Mr. Alexander Lindsay. "

Sandy lay back in the hammock and gazed up at the festoons of littlegreen balls, hanging in the trees. He did not respond with his usualreadiness to his sister's nonsense. His gaiety seemed to have desertedhim lately. 

"I don't see how you can help getting up on the barn and yelling forjoy, Sandy, " she declared impatiently. "I know I would, every time Ithink about going to college, if I were a boy. But I have several goodreasons for not expressing myself in that manner. Ellen's one, andMrs. Sinclair's another, and then I'm really a very well behaved youngwoman anyway, and I'm going to be a lady some day, and it might not bewell to have such dark places in my past. "

Sandy laughed rather forcedly. "It'll be time enough for me to yell, when I've got something to yell about, " he said. "'Don't holler tillyou're out of the bush, ' is a good old adage. And I'm a long way frombeing out of it yet. "

"What do you mean?" asked Christina in alarm. 

"I was talking things over with John last night, and we're afraid wecan't manage for me to go this year. Allister lost some money in realestate last month, and can't be depended on to help John as much as heexpected. I've almost decided to go down and see Mitchell about theAnondell school. They wrote yesterday asking me to take it again. "

"Oh, _Sandy_! Oh!" Christina's tone was full of unbelieving dismay. "I can't believe it. Surely, --oh, John won't let you stay! Somethingcan be done surely----"

"Oh, of course John wants me to go and he'd manage somehow. But Iwon't let him. It would cut Neil short too. It's no use making a rowover it, " he concluded stoically. "It just can't be helped. "

But Christina was inconsolable. It required a great deal of explainingto convince her that it was not all an evil dream. She just couldn'tand wouldn't believe it. It was harder to bear Sandy's disappointmentthan if it had been her own. He found he had to undertake the role ofcomforter and try to convince her it was not such a disaster after all. There was no use making a row over what couldn't be helped, he repeatedagain and again. She would catch up to him in the year she would haveat school, and who knew but they might enter college together. 

But Christina could only sit and stare in silence down the orchardaisle to where the sun was glowing, richly purple, on the last uncutclover field. The glory had departed from the morning, and the gloryhad departed too, from the road to success which she and Sandy were tohave taken together. For she alone realised what a bitterdisappointment this was to Sandy. He would never complain, she wellknew, nor indulge in self-pity, but she did know that there was gravedanger of his throwing away the hope of a University educationaltogether, and going into business or perhaps back to the farm. Forif he did not start this year, how was one to know what might happenbefore the next year? She sat perfectly silent, and when Christina wassilent she was in deep trouble. Sandy strove in vain to cheer her. "Never mind. Don't let it worry you, " he said bravely. "I can studynights and perhaps I won't lose so much time. And if I can't manage itnext year I can go out West with Allister. Come along, let's get tochurch. "

She rose slowly, and as slowly went into the house to see if Grandpawere comfortable. They left him in a cool corner of the winter kitchenwith his Bible and hymn-book and Sport at his feet. The familygathered on the veranda, and though Christina's mind was so disturbed, she did not forget to see that her mother had a clean handkerchief, andthat her bonnet was on straight. 

Mary was like a fairy in her white muslin dress, and Ellen lookedunusually radiant, in a new blue silk, a present from Allister. ButEllen had an especial reason for looking radiant these days. For along time she and Bruce had nursed the hope that he might studymedicine one day, and Dr. McGarry had promised to hand him over all hispractice the day he graduated. Times had been too hard on the McKenziefarm for Bruce to leave, but crops had been good for several years now, and he had almost decided to try the University. And Ellen, who sharedthe Lindsay ambition to the full, was sharing his joy and urging him on. 

John walked by his mother's side, and Christina fell behind betweenSandy and Jimmie. Usually her mother had to rebuke the hilarity ofthese three on Sabbath mornings, but to-day Christina was so quiet thatJimmie enquired if she were sick. 

They passed silently through the little gate between the lilac bushes, and down the lane to where the tall poplars stood guard at the entranceto the farm. When their mother accompanied them the Lindsays neverwent by the Short Cut, for even Sandy's stile was too difficult a climbfor her. 

As they passed out onto the Highway they were joined here and there bygroups of church goers. For everybody in Orchard Glen except two orthree odd characters, went to church, and Sunday was a day of pleasantsocial intercourse, such as no other time of the busy week afforded. 

It was a real relief, too, from the long strain of six days' toil, andas yet neither the pleasure-seeker nor the money-getter had interferedseriously with its grateful peace. It was a day when you took yourselfout of your toilsome environment, dressed in your best, and drove orwalked leisurely to church, with a feeling of ease and well-being thatno hurried pleasure-seeking could ever give. And you met all yourfriends and neighbours there, and had a word with them, andincidentally you were reminded that while crops and cattle and finehorses and motor cars and a swelling bank account were good things topossess; like the work of the past week, they would be put away oneday, while the unseen things would remain. 

The McKenzies came down the path from the farm above, the whole family, from Old Johnnie, who was an elder, to Katie, who was Christina's age. They paired off with the Lindsays, and Bruce and Ellen dropped behind, for they had gotten so far on their courtship, that they even walked tochurch together, in broad daylight, a stage that was supposed toimmediately precede a wedding. 

The young folk from the Browns came pouring out of their gate. TheBrowns were Methodists and the old folk went only to their own churchwhich held its meetings in the evening. But youthful Orchard Glenpractised Church Union very persistently, and the Browns were onlyfollowing the usual custom when they went to each church impartially. 

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn and Marthy came bouncing past in their car. TheWoman was a Methodist, but Marthy was a Presbyterian so they went toboth churches. Trooper Tom never went with his Aunt anywhere thatcould be avoided and he came down the pathway with the wide stride thatmarked him for a rider of the plains, and walked beside Sandy. 

They were down in the village proper now, and every house sent out itsrepresentatives. The village did not begin until the Lindsay hill hadbeen descended and the little bridge that spanned the brown streamcrossed, and right on the bank stood the tiny cottage where littleMitty Minns and her old invalid grandmother lived. Mitty had latelymarried Burke Wright who worked in the flour mill, and was now emergingfrom the gate with her new husband, fairly bubbling over with joy andpride at being off alone with him for a few hours, away from Granny'scomplainings. 

Across the street stood a much more imposing residence, Dr. McGarry'sred brick, white pillared home. Mrs. Sutherland, his widowed sisterwho kept house for him, came rustling out in her best black silk, andwonder of wonders, the Doctor with her!

Joanna Falls, the blacksmith's daughter, burst from the next gate, likea beautiful butterfly from a green cocoon. Joanna was glorious in apink silk and white shoes, and a hat trimmed with pink roses. She wasa very handsome girl, but she was fast nearing the danger line ofthirty, and a long attachment to Trooper Tom Boyd, who was a gay lad, attached to nobody, had rather soured Joanna's temper and sharpened hertongue. 

Her father, in his shirt sleeves, was sitting in the most conspicuouspart of the little veranda with his stockinged feet on the railing, smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper. Mark Falls always managed, when the weather permitted, to arrange himself in this position on aSunday before the church goers. He knew it scandalised the worshippersand especially angered the good old Presbyterians who were strictSabbatarians. Mark made a great parade of his extreme irreligiousness, and could tell stories all day long about duplicity of ministers andthe hypocrisy of church members. Joanna was his one orphan child andhe was not a very kind father, which had added not a little to hisdaughter's acidity of temper. But they went their several ways quiteindependently, and Joanna's way was always where Trooper Tom Boyd wasto be found. 

She happened to come out of her gate just as Trooper and Sandy Lindsaywere passing together, and of course they walked with her. It wassurprising how many times little coincidents like this happened. Trooper whispered something to her and Joanna's happy laugh could beheard all down the line of demure church goers. 

The procession passed the closed and deserted store, but MarmadukeSimms was perched on the veranda, and Trooper meanly deserted his fairpartner, and swung himself up beside his chum, there to wait until thesound of the first hymn would assure them they were in no danger ofbeing too early for church. 

Tilly Holmes came tripping out of the side door and through the gardengate, an entrance used only on the Sabbath. The Holmeses were strictBaptists, and their service was not held until the afternoon. But theyfound it impossible to keep their children from the promiscuouschurch-going habits of the village and long ago had given up thestruggle. They even allowed Tilly to belong to the UnionPresbyterian-and-Methodist Choir, knowing that youth will be waywardand you can't put old heads on young shoulders. 

Tilly was trying hard not to giggle, seeing it was Sunday, but shefound it particularly difficult, for she had to walk beside Joanna, andsince Trooper had dropped away Joanna's tongue had become more thanusually sarcastic. 

The unusual sight of Dr. McGarry going to church proved an irresistibleopportunity. Mrs. Sutherland was never done telling Mrs. Sinclair howthe Doctor struggled to get to church on Sundays, and all in vain. Itseemed as though the whole countryside selfishly arranged theirmaladies to prevent his attending the sanctuary. 

"Well my sakes, " declared Joanna, "the Doctor's goin' to church!Everybody must a' got awful healthy all at once, or else they've all upand died on him. "

She turned to Mary and Christina who were walking behind her. Theunimpaired success of the Lindsays was particularly trying to Joanna'stemper. 

"Well, how's that rich brother o' yours gettin' on, Christine?" sheasked, her black eyes snapping. "I see he hasn't sent you to collegeyet. "

"It's very kind of you to ask after him, Joanna, " said Mary smoothly. Mary Lindsay was the one girl in Orchard Glen who could put Joanna inher place. "If Trooper was of a jealous nature he might object, but hedoesn't seem to be that kind at all. "

Joanna whirled around and addressed herself to Tilly, her cheeksflaming. Her love for Trooper Tom, who was but a wayward cavalier, wasthe cause of much bitterness and heart-burning. 

They were turning in at the church gate, when an old-fashioneddouble-buggy rattled past, drawn by a heavy shining team. A young manwas driving and there were three very gaily-dressed ladies with him. 

Gavin Grant's three Aunts were always a sight worth seeing on a Sunday. They were lovely ladies, who, by the calendar, might have been termedold; but they had stopped aging somewhere in the happiest period ofgirlhood. So it was not unfitting that they should dress in theirgirlhood clothes, though they were all of a fashion of some thirtyyears previous. And so, though Auntie Elspie's hair was white and herface wrinkled, and Auntie Flora was stooped and rheumatic and AuntieJanet stout and matronly, their hearts were young and light, and theyarrayed themselves accordingly. They owned the most wonderful flowergarden in the countryside and the old democrat looked as if all itshollyhocks had come to church, as Gavin pulled up at the door. TheGrant Girls were all dressed in ancient silks and velvets made in thefashion of an early Alexandra period, with much silk fringe and oldheavy jewellery as accessories. 

Gavin carefully helped each of them alight, for the Aunties had givenmuch time to their boy's manners and had seen to it that he did notfail in little acts of courtesy. And though the women declared thatthey had "babied" him beyond belief, and the girls said he was as muchan old maid as any one of them, their kindness had not spoiled him forhe was as generous and unselfish as they were. 

Christina felt the blood mount to her cheeks as she caught Gavin'sglance. She had never mentioned her flowers to him, and always feltashamed when she saw him. 

The three Grant Girls were immediately surrounded by friends. Everybody loved them, and their arrival at church always caused apleasant stir. 

Gavin came back from putting his horses into the shed and showed themto their seats, where he sat with them until it was time for him to gointo the choir. 

Christina always went to choir practice, but like many another, she didnot sing in the choir on Sundays, so she went to the family pew withher mother while Mary and Ellen joined the singers in the vestibule. 

The congregation were almost all seated, when the choir, withTremendous K. At their head, came hurrying down the aisle, and tooktheir places in seats beside the pulpit. Joanna Falls was leadingsoprano, by virtue of a voice of peculiar strength and carrying power, Gavin Grant, who had the best baritone voice in the countryside, ledthe boys, and Minnie McKenzie, whose father was an elder, and MarthaHenderson, Tremendous K. 's sister, played the organ on alternateSundays--an arrangement necessary to prevent a split in the church. 

Mr. Sinclair had been in Orchard Glen for twenty-five years, and knewhis people better than they knew themselves. He realised that theweek's toil was absorbing, and on Sundays he tried hard to turn hispeople's eyes away from the things that are passing to those that areeternal. And on this morning it seemed to Christina that he had chosenhis sermon entirely for her benefit. 

"For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it;" the divine paradoxwas his text, and he told Christina plainly that by saving for herselfthis life of wider experience and greater opportunity, she was missingthe one great opportunity that comes to all souls. She was losing herlife. 

When church was over and Mr. Sinclair was moving about among thepeople, he came down the aisle and gave one hand to Sandy and the otherto Christina at the same time. 

"Well, well! and you'll both be leaving me soon!" he cried heartily. "I'm getting used to sending off my boys to the University, but it's agreat event when I send one of my girls! Sandy, I want to hear of youin Knox yet. That's your destination, don't forget. You'll make asgood a preacher as Neil any day. Well, well, and how are you to-day, Miss Flora--and you Janet--?" He had passed on and was shaking handswith the Grant Girls, giving Christina no chance to reply. She glancedat Sandy; his eyes were on the floor, but she could read his face, andshe knew he was struggling with the bitterness of disappointment. 

She was even more silent on the road home from church. Bell Brown andTilly Holmes chattered away on either side of her, asking questionsabout where she would board in Algonquin, and what new dresses shewould get, and how long she would be at school before she would beready for the University, and wasn't she scared stiff at the thought ofstudying hard for years and years the way folks had to do at college?

Christina answered absently and when she parted with them she surprisedherself by suddenly exclaiming:

"Oh, don't talk about my going any more, girls. Maybe I won't go afterall!" and fled from them before they could demand explanations. 

That Sunday marked the opening of a period of misery for Christina. She worked furiously in house and barnyard, striving to smother theinsistent voice that kept reiterating, "Whosoever will save his lifeshall lose it. "

She had caught Opportunity as he came to meet her, determined not tofall into her old error, and now that she held him, her full hands wereunable to grasp a greater prize that was slipping away. Christina didnot realise all this; she only knew with a feeling of sick dismay thatSandy was not going to college and that it lay within her power to lethim go. 

She was still fighting her battle when Friday evening came, the nightof the greatest function of all Orchard Glen's weekly events. It wasthe night when the Temperance Society met, and though it was stillearly, Christina had finished her work and was ready as usual longbefore the other two girls. She went down the orchard path and seatedherself beside Sandy on the old pump platform. Sport stretched himselfout at Sandy's feet, panting with the exertion of putting the cows intheir place and Christina's pet kitten curled up at her side, the greeneyes on guard against the enemy. 

Sandy had striven manfully all week to raise Christina's spirits and heburst into cheerful conversation. 

"What do you suppose, Christine? Bruce says he's got everything fixedup and he's going to Toronto this fall and Dr. McGarry's tickled tofits. He thinks the world of Bruce. "

"Bruce--Bruce McKenzie!" Christina groaned. "Well, I never! It seemsas if everybody in Orchard Glen was going to the University but you, "she added returning to the one subject that absorbed her attention. 

"Well don't go chewin' on that all the time, " said Sandy cheerfully. "It's better to have one fellow left. Bruce's been saving up his moneyfor the last five years. "

"Ellen won't have to get married so soon then, " remarked Christina withsome feeling of comfort, for Ellen's presence at home made her leavingeasier. "But oh, Sandy, if only----"

"Come along, " cried Sandy jumping up. "It's time we were going. There's Tremendous K. Passing now. "

Christina went back to the house to see if her mother needed anythingbefore she left, and if Grandpa was comfortable in bed, and returned tothe veranda where Sandy stood waiting for her. Bruce and Ellen werethere ready to start, and Mary and young Mr. MacGillivray were alreadystrolling down the lane. 

"Well, Christina, " cried Ellen, her cheeks pink with excitement, "howwould you like to have Bruce for a doctor if you were sick?"

More than a year before Bruce McKenzie had been prepared for college, but lack of money had stood in his way and every one had thought thathe and Ellen had given up the idea and had decided to settle on thefarm. 

"Why, Bruce!" cried Christina, forgetting her own trouble for themoment. "Isn't that too grand for anything?"

"Ellen here says I've got to keep up with the family, you see, " saidBruce, standing in the midst of the admiring circle, half proud, halfembarrassed. "Everybody in Orchard Glen seems to be getting thecollege fever, and Dr. McGarry's been at me all summer, so I guess I'lltry it anyway. "

If Sandy had been going Christina would have been rapturously happyover this. Ellen's approaching marriage had always hung like a cloudon the horizon, but if Ellen were going to be left at home until Brucebecame a doctor, what a joy that would be. But nothing could be a joynow that Sandy's hopes had been blighted. 

"It's just bully, " Sandy was saying generously, "I'm sorry that"----He was interrupted by Christina's pinching his arm, and stoppedsuddenly. No one noticed in the dusk of the veranda, and when theywere out in the lane, Sandy asked an explanation. "I might as welltell everybody first as last, " he said, "it's decided now. And I'drather tell and get it over. "

"Oh, don't, " pleaded Christina, "wait for a little while. You don'tknow what may happen. Don't say anything about it for a few days, anyway. I--I want to think about it. Promise me you won't, Sandy, till I let you. "

Sandy promised reluctantly, saying she was a silly kid. Thinking for amonth, day and night, wouldn't double his bank account, but hepromised; and Christina proceeded to think about it as she had said, and to think very hard and very seriously all the way down to thevillage. 

The old Temperance Hall was open and already several had arrived. Burke Wright, with his little wife, Mitty, her face shining at beingout alone with her husband, were sitting on the steps and Joanna wasthere laughing and chatting with Trooper Tom and, of course, MarmadukeSimms, with a crowd of girls. For Marmaduke was a sort oflover-at-large and made love openly and impartially to all the girls ofthe village. 

The McKenzie girls had proudly announced that Bruce was going away tolearn to be a doctor, and this piece of news was the chief topic ofconversation. The girls all half envied Ellen, half pitied her. Ittook a deal of study and a dreadful long time to become a doctor, Joanna explained, and as none of the McKenzies were very smart, Ellenwould be an old maid before Bruce was through. But Ellen seemedradiantly happy, and no subject for commiseration, and every one agreedthat it was just the way with all the Lindsays, there was no end totheir luck. 

The crowd gathered inside the hall, where a number of the boys werebunched in a corner preparing the programme with much anxiety. 

After the business of the evening which was never very heavy, there wasalways a programme rendered by the boys and girls on alternateevenings. To-night was the boys' turn to perform, which always meant agreat deal of fun for the girls. John Lindsay was President of theSociety, and was down on the programme for a speech on Reciprocity, andthere was to be a male chorus, both sure to be good numbers, for Johnhad some fame as a political speaker, and the boys of Orchard Glencould always put up a fine chorus with Tremendous K. To beat time andGavin Grant's splendid voice to hold them all to the right tune. 

So the programme opened auspiciously with the chorus. The only troublewas the organist. Sam Henderson, a brother of Tremendous K. , was theonly young man in Orchard Glen who could play anything more complexthan a mouth organ, and Sam always seemed to have too many fingers. And he pumped the air into the bellows so hard that the organ's gaspscould be heard far above its strains. 

Then three of the boys played a rousing trio on mouth organs, and youngWillie Brown played a long piece on the violin. Tommy Holmes, Tilly'sbrother, who worked in Algonquin and came home week-ends, then gave arecitation, a comic selection which cheered everybody up after thewails of Willie's fiddle. 

Tremendous K. Sang a solo, a splendid roaring sea song that fairly madethe roof rock, and then John delivered his speech and Christina sat andtwisted her handkerchief and fidgeted every minute of it, in silentfear lest John make a mistake or anybody laugh at him. But John'sspeech was loudly applauded, though Tremendous K. Said afterwards therewas to be no politics brought into the Temperance Society, forTremendous K. Was not of the same political party as the President andwas not going to run any risks of the liberals getting ahead. 

When John had sat down there arose from the back of the hall among theyoung men a great deal of shoving and pushing and exhorting to "go toit, " and Gavin Grant came forward very reluctant, very red in the face, and looking very scared, to sing his first formal solo in public. 

Gavin was a tall fellow and well built, but his clothes, the majorityof which his Aunties still fashioned, were always too small and veryill-fitting. They seemed to have a tendency to work up to his neck andthey were all crowding to the top when he lurched forward and took hisplace beside the organ. 

"Gavin always looks as if some one had just carried him in by the backof the neck and set him down with a thud, " said Joanna, loud enough forall the girls to hear. Every one laughed except Christina. She hadnot been able to laugh at Gavin since she had been so unkind to hisbirthday gift. Her heart always smote her for the waste of thatwonderful basket of blooms. Now that she knew she was going away shefelt she might at least have acknowledged them. 

Meanwhile Gavin had brought out his Auntie Flora's oldest song book, "The Casket of Gems, " from its wrapping of newspaper, and Sam Hendersonhad once more mounted the tread-mill of the organ, and was tramplingout the opening bars of the solo. Tilly and a few of her companionswere in convulsions of giggles by this time, but when Gavin's richvoice burst into the first notes, every one was hushed and attentive. He sang without the slightest effort, pouring out the melodious soundsas a robin sings after rain. 

 "In days of old when knights were bold, And barons held their sway, A warrior bold with spurs of gold Sang merrily his lay, Sang merrily his lay

 'My love is young and fair, My love has golden hair, And eyes so blue And heart so true That none with her compare; So, what care I though death be nigh, I live for love or die! So, what care I though death be nigh, I live for love or die!'"

It was a gallant lay of love and war and deathless devotion but onlyone as unsophisticated as Gavin could have sung it. For while it washeld quite proper for a young man to sing of war in a public way, noone with a sense of the fitness of things would dare to raise his voicein a love song, alone, before an audience of his fellows. But Gavin'svoice brought the warrior's gallant presence so vividly before themthat not even Tilly felt like smiling, and there was a sober hush asthe song went on to tell how the brave knight

 "Went gaily to the fray. He fought the fight But ere the night His soul had passed away. The plighted ring he wore Was crushed and wet with gore, But ere he died He bravely cried, 'I've kept the vow I swore! So what care I though death be nigh, I live for love or die. I've fought for love, for love I die!'"

The singer put all the valour of his brave young heart into the song, all its pent up feeling. For Gavin Hume had been born a real diamondin a dark mine of poverty and ill-usage; he had been dug up, andpolished and smoothed by the loving hands of the three Grant Girls andhis character was beginning to shine with the lustre that comes onlyfrom the real jewel. But very few people knew this, he was too shy togive expression to the high aspirations that thrilled his heart, andonly in such songs as this did his soul find a medium of expression. There was a day coming swiftly upon him, that was to try to the utmostall the pent up valour of his reticent nature, but as yet that day wasall undreamed of. And Christina Lindsay, remembering when that daycame, this Temperance meeting, recalled with self-abasement that shehad thought that Gavin Grant could not have chosen a song more unlikehimself; he, so shy and shrinking to sing of "A Warrior Bold. " If shehad not been so downhearted she would have laughed at him. 

When the song was finished there was a moment's hush over the meeting, and then came a storm of applause, long continued. The boys took toclapping and stamping rhythmically, and shouting, "More, more, " untilthe old building rocked. 

But Gavin shook his head persistently, and John arose and announced thenext. This was a comic song by Marmaduke Simms, and Duke certainly wasa very funny fellow. He could imitate anything from Mrs. JohnnieDunn's car on a steep hill, to the Martins' youngest baby crying. Hesoon had them all in roars of laughter, and the meeting broke up inmuch gaiety, and some anxiety on the part of the girls as to theirability to do as well on the next Friday. 

Most of the boys and girls paired off and vanished into the darkness. The unfortunate ones who were not yet attached, moved away in bunches. Christina belonged to this latter class, unless a brother was with her. But Jimmie had disappeared with the boys of his own age, John waswalking ahead, arguing hotly with Tremendous K. About the subject ofhis address, and Sandy had meanly deserted her to go off with a whitedress, which she had identified as belonging to Margaret Sinclair, theminister's youngest daughter who was home for her holidays. Underhappier circumstances Christina would have been pleased at his choice, but nothing in connection with poor Sandy could please her just now. He was bearing his disappointment far better than she was, for hertrouble was worse than a disappointment. The unbearable part to herwas the fact that stared her in the face, the fact that she wasdeliberately taking the privilege denied him. 

She walked away from the hall slowly and silently, between Joanna Fallsand Annie Brown, for Joanna's cavalier was a very uncertain quantityand poor plain Annie had never had a beau in her life. But Joannasuddenly remembered that she had left her handkerchief on the seat inthe hall, and must run back for it before Trooper and Duke locked thedoor. The girls knew better than to wait for her, and then BurkeWright and Mitty strolled up and began talking with Annie. Christinastepped behind them in the narrow pathway for a moment, and it was thenthat a tall figure loomed up beside her out of the darkness, and amusical voice with a slow Highland accent that it was impossible tomistake, repeated the proper formula. 

"May I see you home, Christine?"

Christina stopped short in the pathway. Never in all her nineteenyears had she been asked that momentous question; the opening note ofall country romances. She had heard it sounded on every side for yearsbut its music had always passed her by. She had begun to wonder just alittle wistfully, when she would hear it. And now here it was! But, alas, like her first birthday gift, it had came from an unwelcomesource!

But she answered quite cordially, being incapable of deliberatelywounding any one, and Gavin gave a deep breath of relief as he took hisplace at her side. He was too shy to take her arm in the approvedfashion, as all young men did when seeing a young woman to her home. Instead he left a foot or two between them as they walked up the hillunder the stars in the warm scented darkness. 

Christina tried to chat, but Gavin was so overcome with the wonder ofseeing her home, that he could not talk. He longed for some deadlyperil to threaten her so that he might be her protector, somecatastrophe that he might avert. 

He was fairly aching to tell her that his great ambition was to be herWarrior Bold, and ride out to do doughty deeds for her sweet sake; thatshe was his Love so young and fair, of whom he had been singing, witheyes so blue and heart so true; but instead, he walked dumbly by herside, keeping carefully a yard away from her, and answering herlaborious attempts at conversation with only a word. For Gavin was oneof the inarticulate poets of earth, a mute, inglorious Lovelace, with aheart burdened with unsung lines to his Lucasta on going to the wars. 

They had come to one of their prolonged seasons of silence, whenChristina discovered that they were strolling slowly behind Old JohnnieMcKenzie, Bruce's father, and Mr. Sinclair who was seeing him a pieceof the way home, for the purpose of rejoicing over the good news aboutBruce. The minister had been so many years in the pulpit that he usedhis preaching voice on all occasions, and there was no chance ofmissing a word that he said. 

"This is great news about Bruce, Mr. McKenzie, " he was saying in a fullround voice, "great news! I'd rather see him going for the Ministry. But you have brought up your lads in the fear of the Lord and Brucewill serve his Maker well as a doctor, I've no fear. Yes, it's finenews. "

Mr. Sinclair was greedy of gain of the highest order for his flock, andgave parents no rest if he thought they were not giving their childrenthe utmost education they could afford. It was largely due to him thatall Orchard Glen looked to the University rather than to the countinghouse as the goal of those who would succeed, and that old Knox alwayshad an Orchard Glen boy helping to keep her halls noisy. 

"Yes sir, it's grand to see another of our boys entering theUniversity, " he went on, as though delivering his Sunday sermon. "Andnow that Johnnie's got into the High School we'll have to head him forthe ministry. He's a bright lad that Johnnie of yours. Neil Lindsayis the only boy we have in Knox now, and there must be another comingalong before he gets out. I was hoping I'd get Sandy Lindsay startedto the University this Fall, but he seemed to talk to-night as if hewasn't sure of going. I'll be disappointed if Sandy doesn't get awaysoon; I was hoping Allister would see him through. Sandy would make afine man in the pulpit. He's got the same gift as John. Man, I hopehe won't be kept back. We can't do without our representative in Knox, Mr. McKenzie, the boys must be coming on. And your Johnnie will haveto be the next. Come away in, Mr. McKenzie, and we'll tell Mrs. Sinclair, this is a day of good tidings. Come away in, man. "

They stepped in at the Manse gate, and Christina and Gavin moved onalone. She had almost forgotten his presence, but she turned to himnow, because she must have some one to confide in. 

"Oh, Gavin, did you hear what he was saying, that Sandy might be aminister some day!"

"But that would be a great thing, wouldn't it?" asked Gavin, surprisedout of his shyness at the grief in Christina's voice. 

"But, I'm afraid--Sandy thinks we can't afford it this Fall. I meanfor him to go to college, " whispered Christina in distress. "And if hedoesn't go now he may not go at all. He has had to wait so long. "

Gavin forgot his shyness entirely in his efforts to comfort her. 

"But you must not be feeling so bad, " he said gently. "Is there no wayto help it?"

Christina suddenly remembered that Mr. Sinclair had often told hermother that Gavin Grant had both the ability and the longing to be aminister, but he would never confess his desires, lest they trouble theAunties. Perhaps he could understand her case and advise her, and inan impulsive moment, born of her great need, she told him all about thecloud that had been hanging over her during the past week. 

"I want just dreadfully to go to college and get a good education, " shefinished up. "You know all about it, I'm sure you do, don't you, Gavin? And now I've got my first real chance, and if I take it I'll bekeeping Sandy back. Perhaps I'll be keeping him from being a minister, and wouldn't that be dreadful? And I don't know what to do. "

It did not seem queer, somehow, for her to be asking Gavin's adviceabout this momentous question, but his position was especiallydifficult. He could not answer her for a few minutes. For he knewthat he was not at all an unbiased judge. Next to his own going, hewanted more than anything else in the world that Christina should beleft at home. He could hardly bear to think of what life in OrchardGlen would be like without the chance of looking at her in church or atmeeting, and occasionally speaking to her. Indeed he would not havedared to take this bold plunge of asking to see her home to-night hadhe not known that it would likely be his last chance, and that shewould soon be gone out of his life. 

"I am afraid I would want to go if I was in your place, " he confessedat last. "But, " he hesitated shyly, "Auntie Elspie always knows whatis best, and she has always told me that we never lose a thing bygiving it up for some one else. She gave up all her chances forGrandmother Grant and stayed home and cared for her. And she let theironly brother go to college, while she managed the farm at home. Andshe says now she is always glad she did it. "

He stopped suddenly, embarrassed. It looked as if he had actually hadthe presumption to preach Christina a sermon. 

But she did not seem to think so. "And you, yourself, " she said, "Mr. Sinclair always wants you to go to college, Gavin, and you know youwould like to, wouldn't you?"

"I am in a very different position from any one like you or Sandy, "said Gavin with a new note of sternness in his voice. "It is not forme to choose whether I will go to college or not. But, " he addedhastily, "my Aunts would let me go if they could, you may be sure ofthat. "

Christina's heart felt a sudden rush of sympathy. She guessed whatGavin must suffer, seeing this boy and that pass on, leaving him behind. 

There was another long silence, which he broke. "You will always dothe kind thing, " he whispered. "You could not do anything else. "

They had come to the big gate between the sentinel poplars, andChristina stopped. Mary and young MacGillivray were leaning on thelittle garden gate that led in from the lane, and Bruce and Ellen, whohad long passed the hanging-over-the-gate stage of courtship, had goneindoors for something to eat. 

"Oh, I'm afraid you're all wrong, " she declared; "I--I don't want to abit, but, you think I ought to let Sandy go, don't you?"

Gavin looked down at her in the dim starlight for a moment before hefound courage to reply. "You know so much better than I do, " he saidat last. "And I am not the one to advise you, because, --because, ----"

"Because what?" she asked wonderingly. 

"Because I can't bear to think of you going away, " burst out Gavin withdesperate boldness. 

Christina felt her cheeks grow hot under the sheltering darkness. Shewas speechless in her turn, and then afraid of what might follow thissudden outburst, she said confusedly, "I must go in now and think aboutit, " and with a hurried good-night, she was gone. 

She ran noiselessly up the lane, avoiding the lovers at the gardengate, and entered the back gate that opened from the barn-yard. Shefound Bruce and Ellen with John and her mother in the kitchen eatingscones and drinking buttermilk. No one remarked her entrance exceptthat her mother, looking over her shoulder asked, "Where's yourbrother, Christine?"

"He's gone off with some one else's sister, " answered Christina tryingto speak carelessly. 

"Sometimes sisters go off with some one else's brother, " remarked John, his eyes twinkling. "No, I don't believe he is a brother to any one, is he?" Christina gave him an imploring look, that begged him to keepher secret, and he generously changed the subject. They were all fullof Bruce's new prospects, and Christina slipped away unnoticed to bed. 

But for the first time in her healthy young life worry drove sleep farfrom her. She heard Sandy come in, heard Jimmie enter the next roomand his boots drop heavily on the floor, and when Ellen and Mary cameup she pretended to be asleep. She occupied a small room opening offthe one shared by her sisters, and could hear their whispers and hushedlaughter. Ellen was so proud of Bruce and all he was going to be, andMary was justly proud of her lover, and Christina had nobody to see herhome but Gavin Grant, and no hope of anything better was before her. For how could she go to school and leave Sandy behind?

How could she? She was facing the question at last. And her heartanswered that no matter what wise folks might say about graspingOpportunity, she simply could not let it stand in Sandy's way. Therewas only one answer to her question. 

She lay very still till she knew that her sisters were asleep. Thenshe rose and softly closed the door between their rooms. She lit herlamp, feeling quite like a thief, and took out her box of writingpaper. The pen and ink were downstairs, but she had a lead pencil, andAllister would not mind. 

She took the little stubby pencil and poured out her heart on to thepaper. She just could not go, that was all about it. And would hesend Sandy instead? Sandy might be a minister some day like Neil, Mr. Sinclair said, and she would never, never be happy again if she thoughtshe had made him stay home and be a farmer, or perhaps just aschool-teacher because she had taken his chance away from him. Andwould he mind if she stayed home? Perhaps she could go some othertime. Or she could teach for a while and put herself through. Sandywas nearly two years older than she was and he would soon be thinkinghe was too old to go to college. Of course Sandy did not know she wasdoing this. He would not let her, she knew, so she had told no one. She was up late at night when every one else was asleep, and she couldnot rest until she told him what she wanted. And she was going to getup early and give the letter to Mrs. Johnnie Dunn to post in Algonquinso it would get to him sooner. And oh, would he please, please, writeright away, the very day he got it, and tell Sandy he could go in herplace. For she could never, never be happy----"

The letter went on and on reiterating incoherently all she feared andsuffered. It was very late indeed when she crept to bed. She thoughtthe right thing for a girl to do who had lost all her chances in lifewas to lie down and cry all night. But she was surprised to find thatshe felt strangely light hearted. All the dreadful weight of the pastweek had been removed. She could not think about her own loss, sojoyous was she over the thought that Sandy was going after all. 

So she slept soundly, and dreamed that she was going to college andthat Gavin Grant was a professor there and was teaching her wonderfultruths. 

CHAPTER IV

CRAIG-ELLACHIE

In spite of the high rapture of her sacrifice Christina found lifedistinctly dull when Sandy and Neil went off to Toronto leaving herbehind. She felt as if she had been away on a long romantic journeysince Allister's return; a journey that gave glimpses of wonderfulcountries still to be travelled, and then she had suddenly been droppedback into Orchard Glen and forbidden to travel any more. 

And here she was milking and churning and feeding the hens andcompanying with Uncle in the barn yard. Of course Uncle Neil was theexcellent company he had always been, full of song and story, andChristina could not find an opportunity to mourn over her lot even ifshe had been so minded. She was not the sort to wear a martyr's robe. She would play the part, but she refused to make up for it. So shewent about her daily tasks, singing as blithely as that Spring morningwhen Allister opened the gate into a larger life for her, the gatewhich she had voluntarily shut, with herself inside. She bore herdisappointment jauntily, walking erect as Eastern girls carry theirburdens on their heads, growing straight and graceful in the effort. 

And then she was too busy to fret. There was Grandpa who needed morehelp every morning with his dressing, and every evening with theHindmost Hymn. There was her mother, whose tasks must now grow lightereach year, there was Jimmie to be helped with his lessons on Saturdays, there was a Sunday school class with two of the bad Martin children init, and there was Mary's trousseau to help prepare against the weddingat Christmastime. For the courtship of MacGillivray's man hadproceeded at a furious pace and through Ellen had been engaged for fiveyears, Mary was to be the first to marry. And so, Christina's handswere very full, and John would often say to her, after an unusuallybusy day, or when a letter came from Sandy bewailing her lot:

"Just wait, Christine. In another year who knows what will happen?"And Christina's heart was content. 

As Mary had to keep up her teaching until the Christmas holidays, andher evenings were mostly spent with the young man who drove over fromPort Stewart quite a remarkable number of times a week, there was muchto do in the preparation of her clothes. Ellen had stopped her ownembroidering, to wait until Bruce was through college, and she took todoing towels and table-napkins and doilies for Mary. 

"I can't help thinking that it's a dreadful waste for you to getmarried, " declared Christina, one Saturday afternoon as they all sewedfuriously in the big roomy kitchen. "You're just throwing away ateacher's certificate. My! If I had Greenwood school I'd never getmarried!" And Mary and Ellen laughed and looked at each otherknowingly from their respective heights far above Christina's head. 

She tried to keep up her studies by following Jimmie's course, andstayed home on Friday nights from the Temperance meeting to help himwith his lessons. 

One evening they had a long hunt through "The Lady of the Lake" for aline about the Harebell which Jimmie must quote in an essay. They weresitting around the long kitchen table, all except Mary who was outdriving in the moonlight. Ellen was at one end writing to Bruce asusual, John at the other, reading the daily paper, Mrs. Lindsay wasknitting, and Uncle Neil was strumming out fragments of old songs onhis violin, his stockinged feet comfortable on the damper of the stove. 

Even Uncle Neil's memory could not produce the Harebell, and Jimmiewent rummaging through the book impatiently. 

"Gavin Grant would tell me if he was here, " Jimmie said. "He knows allthis stuff off by heart. "

"And plenty more, " put in Uncle Neil to the tune of "Oh wert thou inthe cauld blast?" "Gavin's mind is well stored. Mr. Sinclair says hereads Carlyle in the evenings with the Grant girls. I wonder if youcould match that anywhere in this country?"

Christina felt self-accusing, remembering her superior feeling inGavin's awkward presence. He had been very busy with the harvest andshe had not seen him except at church for a long time. He had neverattempted to walk home with her again, and she could not help wonderingwhether it was because he was shy, or because he did not care. Womanlike she would have given a good deal to know. 

"I wish you would run over to Craig-Ellachie with that jar of blackcurrants I promised the Grant Girls, Christina, " said her mother. 

"That's the seventeenth time you've been reminded of that, " said Jimmiechidingly. 

"I think John'll have to hitch up the team and take that jar over inthe hay wagon, " said Uncle Neil, "Christine doesn't seem to be able tomanage it. "

"She's shy about going to see Gavin, " said John, looking at her withtwinkling eyes over his paper. For John alone knew her guilty secret. She hastily promised to take the jar the very next day, and managed toget the conversation back to the Harebell, which in time showed its shyself and was set down in the essay. 

It was nearly a week before Christina managed to get away on herdifficult errand. She did not want to go, certainly, but she wasafraid of attracting more comment from John and Uncle Neil by staying. 

It was a golden September day when she went up over the hills with abasket of apples from their best tree, and the special jar of hermother's black currant jelly. The air was motionless, the sky aperfect soft unclouded blue, the hills were amber, the hollowsamethyst. The branches of the orchard trees behind the village housessagged, heavy with their harvest, and gay as orchards gotten up for agarden party, all hung with fairy lantern globes of yellow and red. The gardens were filled with ripened corn and great golden pumpkins. The wild asters along the fences glowed softly purple. 

Christina stepped over the warm yellow stubble singing, and climbed thehill to the old berry patch, where the briars grew more riotously everyyear. Gavin's cows were straying through the green and yellow tangleon his side of the fence and a bell rang musically through the stillaisles. The Wizard of Autumn had been up here on the hills with hispaints and had touched the sumachs along the fences till they lookedlike trees of flame. And he had been working on a bit of woodbine thatnow draped the old rail fence as with a scarlet curtain. A blue jayflashed through the golden silence waking the echoes with his noisylaughter and the flickers high up in the dead stumps called jeeringlyto each other. 

Christina came out of the Slash into the yellow sunshine of Gavin'sfields, and as she did so, she suddenly dropped down behind theraspberry bushes that fringed the fence, quite in a panic. For a loudmusical voice arose from the field just beyond the brow of the hill, Gavin was ploughing the back meadow and singing, and the song madeChristina's heart heat hotly:

 "Will ye gang to the Hielan's, Leezie Lindsay? Will ye gang to the Hielan's wi' me?"

Hidden by the hill, and the screening bushes, she slipped away and tooka devious course down the valley. But there was a lump in her throatas she went. 

She ran past a clump of cedars and came out into view ofCraig-Ellachie. The Grant Girls had given their home this name becauseof its association with their clan's history, but Nature had encouragedthem, for behind the house, set back against the dark pine woods, rosea hill crowned by a towering rock. The cosy old white-washed house wasset in the centre of a saucer-like valley. It was the original loghouse in which their parents had lived and had been added to here andthere till it was beautifully picturesque just as the home of the GrantGirls should be. 

But visitors to Craig-Ellachie never saw anything else after theirfirst glimpse of the garden. 

Every one wondered how it was that the Grant Girls' garden shouldoutbloom all others, and that nobody else ever had any hope of firstprize at the Fall fairs. One said it was the sheltered location of theplace, others the low elevation, still others that it was the southernslope that made the Craig-Ellachie garden unfold the earliest crocus inSpring and hold safely the latest aster in Autumn. But wise folk, likeChristina's mother, always held that it was the tender care of thethree gardeners and the sunlight of their presence that made theirflowers the wonder of the countryside. 

Christina drew a breath of delight as it came into view. Dahlias andasters, rows and rows of them, clumps of feathery cosmos, hedges offlaming gladioli, dazzling golden glow and a dozen others she did notrecognise made a glorious array. And the blooms were not confined tothe garden proper that was spread out on the south side of the house. They overflowed into the vegetable garden at the back, and spreadaround the lawn at the front. They strayed away along the fences andcompletely hedged the orchard. They even encroached upon the barnyard;the manure heap was screened from view by a wall of sunflowers andgolden glow and a rainbow avenue of late phlox led down to the pig-pens. 

Christina entered by the barnyard and came up through the kitchengarden where rows of cauliflower and cabbage and tomatoes alternatedwith pansies and mignonette and scarlet salvia. Every bed of onionswas fringed with sweet alyssum, and rows of beets were flanked withrosemary and lavender. She opened the little wire gate that led intothe garden proper and walked up under a long arched canopy of climbingroses and sweet peas that seemed, like the Grant Girls, to take no heedof the passing of time but bloomed on as though it were June. As shedisappeared into its green shade her eye caught a movement in one ofthe brown fields behind the barn. The two younger sisters were theredigging potatoes. 

There had been a day when the Grant Girls did all the work of field andfarmyard, and their hands were hard and their backs bent. But sinceGavin had grown to man's estate their lives had been easier. Indeedthey were never done telling tales of how Gavie had forbidden theirgoing into the fields. They boasted of his high handed airs, forhadn't he even chased Janet out of the barnyard, with the pitchfork, mind you, when she was determined to help him in with the hay. Ehindeed he was a thrawn lad, and nobody could manage oor Gavie!

And now that they had fallen upon easier days and Gavin's strong armshad taken up the heavier work, they had resumed many of the older tasksthat long ago most farm women had gladly handed over to factory ormill. No cheese factory or creamery received a drop of milk or creamfrom Craig-Ellachie; and the Grant Girls still spun their own wool fromtheir own sheep, and knit it into good stout socks for themselves andGavin, and cousin Hughie Reid, and his big family of boys. 

So this afternoon, Auntie Elspie, the eldest of the three, was sittingat the open kitchen door in the sunshine spinning. The soft Septemberbreeze swayed her white apron and pink-dotted calico dress. Behind herthe wide, low-ceiled old kitchen fairly glittered in its cleanliness. The high dresser with its blue plates, and the old chairs and tablewere varnished till they shone like mirrors. And the kitchen stove, used only in winter, for the wood-shed was the summer kitchen, blazedas it never had on a winter night, for on it stood a great blue pitcherfilled with flaming gladioli. 

Around Auntie Elspie were arranged the household pets, all sleeping inthe sunshine; Auntie Flora's cat and two kittens, Auntie Janet'sspaniel, and Gavin's fox terrier and two collies. The four dogs set upa loud clamour at the sight of the visitor, and went gambolling downthe walk to meet her. At the sound the two workers in the field pausedto look, and stood gazing until Christina disappeared indoors. 

Auntie Elspie dropped her thread and came hurrying down the steps, saying in mild reproach, "Hoots, toots, what a noise!" And then inglad welcome, "Eh, eh, and it's little Christina! Eh, now, and wasn'tit jist grand o' ye to come away over here--well--well--well--well!"

Mrs. Lindsay was the Grant Girls' oldest and dearest friend, and avisit from any of her family was an occasion of great rejoicing. 

"Eh, well, well!" Auntie Elspie was patting Christina on the back, andtaking off her hat in exuberant hospitality, mingling her words ofwelcome with admonitions to the riotous dogs which were bounding aboutmaking a joyous din. 

"Eh, well, now, and your poor mother, she would be well! Hut, tut, Wallace! Bruce! Yon's no way to act. And wee Mary'll be gettingmarried--Princie! Did ye ever see the like o' that? They're jist thatglad to see ye. Wallace! Down, sir, down! Jist wait till Gavie gitshome, Bruce, then ye'll mind! And Sandy's away to the college too. Well, well, you Lindsays were all great for the books--come away in, hinny, come away. Down with ye, down!"

They went into the house, the dogs still bounding joyously about, forthey knew that a guest at Craig-Ellachie was a great and glad event andthat they must express their joy in a fitting manner. 

Auntie Elspie was tall and thin and stooped. Her thin fair hair, almost white, was combed up in the fashion that had obtained when shewas a girl. She wore a voluminous old dress of some ancient pattern of"print, " that had been quite fashionable some twenty years earlier, butshe was also clothed in the gay garment of youth which the Grant Girlsalways wore. 

She managed to eject the joyous, scrambling quartette from the kitchenand led the visitor through the dusk of the parlour where AuntieFlora's organ stood with Gavin's fiddle on top of it, on into the gloomof the spare room, heaping welcomes upon her all the way, and askingafter everything on the Lindsay farm from Grandpa's rheumatism toChristina's black kitten. 

When Christina's hat was laid upon the high white crest of thebillowing feather bed, and her hair smoothed before the little mirroron the dresser, Auntie Elspie led her away beyond the parlour into aclose, hushed room, where the mother had lain an invalid for manyyears, and which was kept sacred to her memory. Here the Grant Girlshoarded all their mother's treasures: the photographs in oval frames onthe wall, the high old dresser and the big sea chest filled withkeepsakes, tenderly associated with her life; the Paisley shawl shewore to church, the sea shells she had brought from the old country, even the old china tea set that had been her one wedding gift. 

Christina was placed in an old rocker, while Auntie Elspie displayedall the treasures as a girl shows her jewels to a companion, andChristina knew she was being shown a great honour, for only specialfriends were ever taken into Mother's Room. 

The last jewel to be exhibited was the mother's photograph in an oldleather case, velvet lined. 

"Folks say that after a person dies, the picture begins to fade, "Auntie Elspie said, wiping the shining surface tenderly. "But mother'spicture is as bright as the day it was taken. "

Christina looked at the strong, kindly face, with the white cap and thelittle knitted shawl and felt her heart contract at the yearning in theolder woman's voice. Elspie was still a girl, longing for the touch ofher mother's hand, though that mother had been gone twenty-five years. 

"Perhaps it's because you keep her memory so bright, that the picturenever fades, " said Christina gently, and Auntie Elspie kissed her forsheer gratitude. 

When they came out into the sunshine of the kitchen again the other twosisters were there to add their welcome. They had hurried in to seewho their visitor was and were overwhelmed with joy to find it was MaryLindsay's girl. 

"I told you it was little Christina, Flora, " cried Auntie Janettriumphantly; "Flora said it was one o' the McKenzie girls!" And Floraadmitted herself beaten. 

The two were in their farming costumes, old bits of past grandeur, apurple velvet skirt for Janet and a sacque of ancient brocaded silk onFlora, both accompanied by Gavin's cast off boots and wide straw hats. But the wearers received Christina in her trim blue skirt and whiteblouse, of the latest Algonquin style, with a high bred unconsciousnessof clothes. 

"Oh, I'm that glad you've come, " cried Janet, shaking herfifteen-year-old ringlets from her big hat, "you've given us an excusefor a rest. We were jist doin' a bit of _gardenin'_. Weren't we, Flora?" she asked. 

Auntie Flora's eyes twinkled, "Oh, yes, yes, jist _gardenin'_!" shedeclared, and the three Aunties burst out laughing, and Auntie Janetspread out her earth soiled hands with a comical gesture. 

"We've been diggin' the potaties!" she whispered, her eyes dancing. "But if Gavie caught us at it, we'd catch it! So we jist keep tellin'him we've been _gardenin'_ an' he never suspects, an' he can't see usfrom where he's ploughin'!"

"An' we'll be finished in another day if he doesn't find out!" criedAuntie Flora exultingly. 

"Aye, but jist wait, you'll get yer pay for yer pranks when he doesfind out, " admonished Auntie Elspie, like an indulgent motherthreatening her mischievous children with a father's punishment. "Gavie jist won't let us put foot into the fields!" she added proudly. But the two younger ones laughed recklessly. They would be up sideswith Gavie yet, for all his high-handed, bossy ways!

They washed their hands, changed their shoes and put away their bighats, and all three bustled about getting tea. Christina would havepreferred to slip away before Gavin came in, but she well knew that nohuman being had ever come to Craig-Ellachie and left again withoutsitting down to eat, and knew it was no use to protest. 

So she went out into the garden to help Flora gather a bouquet for thetable, and her hostess broke off armfuls of every sort of flowers sheadmired, making a great sheaf to carry home to her mother. They putthe glorious mass into a shining tin pail to await her departure. ThenChristina ran about the kitchen and pantry, helping set the best bluedishes on the table, and they all laughed and joked and had such atime, as though all four had just turned nineteen last May. 

"Did ye hear that Elspie has a fellow, Christina?" called Auntie Florafrom the cellar whither she had gone to fetch the cream. 

"No, " cried Christina, overcome with laughter, "she didn't tell me. "

"She's just a wee bit shy about it yet, " said Auntie Janet. "But whenshe gets over it, you'll see them together in church. "

"It's Piper Lauchie McDonald!" cried Auntie Flora, coming up to thesurface again; "he's been comin' here pretendin' he wanted to teachGavie the pipes, but we can see it's Elspie he's got in his eye. "

Auntie Elspie's eyes were dancing. "They're both that jealous o' me, there's no livin' with them, " she confided. 

They all joined Christina in a gale of laughter, none gayer than Elspieherself. 

Tea was all ready now, a perfect banquet set out with the blue dishes, on the best white and blue tablecloth, with a tremendous glory ofasters and dahlias in a bronze jug in the middle of the table. 

When everything was ready, Auntie Janet ran to the foot of the frontlawn and called a long clear "Hoo-hoo!" and from far away in the fieldsa faint halloo answered. 

"Gavie's coming, " the three cried together joyously, and Auntie Elspiehurried out to the wood-shed to place the blue china teapot on thestove to warm. 

"He won't be long, he always knows there's company when the dogs barkand he'll hurry in. "

While they waited Auntie Flora took Christina into the parlour to showher a new song-book Gavin had brought home the Saturday previous. 

Christina's fascinated gaze went around the wonderful framed wreaths onthe wall, one made of cotton-batting flowers, another of colouredfeathers and the most interesting one fashioned of flowers made fromhair. Auntie Flora went over each blossom tenderly. This rose at thetop was made of mother's hair. Wasn't her hair beautiful and soft andshining? Nobody in the family had hair like mother's. And the onejust beside it of darker grey, was father's. Father's hair was richand beautiful too. The dark brown one was Janet's and the fair oneElspie's. 

"And ye can tell whose is the mouse-coloured one, " said Auntie Janetteasingly. 

"Aye, " said Auntie Flora. "They're never done talkin' about mymouse-coloured hair; but they'll soon have to stop because it's gettin'white!" she added gaily. 

And the next flower that beautiful brown, was made from Duncan's, theonly brother who died when he was in his first year in college. He wasto have been a minister. Mother had saved his curls from the time hewas just a wee laddie. Duncan had died twenty years ago but hissisters could not yet speak of him without tears. 

Then they brightened when Flora pointed out the next and the last--thatshiny black bit, it couldn't be anybody's but Gavie's; hair as black asthat. Did Christina mind what beautiful curly hair he had when theygot him first? And such a time as they had getting him to let it growlong enough to get a piece for the wreath. It was just getting niceonce, but the boys teased him about it at school, and what did he dobut get the shears one night and cut it all off that close that henearly cut the skin, and a sight the rascal was, with bare whitepatches all over his black head!

But Janet saved what was cut and they managed to make this littleflower and put it in the wreath next to Duncan's. Gavie was just suchanother boy as Duncan was, and the Lord had been good indeed to givehim to them in their old age. 

Gavin did not appear quite so soon as expected. He came up slowly fromthe barn, and spent a very long time over the little wash-bench at thewood-shed door. At last he came in, fondling the dogs that keptcircling about him, and shook hands with Christina very hurriedly, asthough he had been in great haste all the time. 

They sat down to the table immediately, and for a while the rapture ofhaving Christina sitting at his right hand almost overcame him and hehad very little to say. But he shared the Aunties' spirit ofhospitality, Christina was his guest and he soon found courage to waiton her and see she was well served. Auntie Elspie, sitting oppositehim with the tea-pot and the cups and saucers, understood, and did allshe could to make things easy for him. Though the three Aunties lovedGavin with equal devotion, Auntie Elspie had been more of a mother tohim. She read her boy and had long ago guessed at his devotion toChristina. She was sure of it now and was very happy. With theoptimism of youth she saw nothing but success ahead for Gavin and wasoverjoyed that he had chosen so wisely and well--one of Mary Lindsay'sgirls. What better could happen?

As for Christina, she was feeling strangely at home and yet in entirelynew surroundings. Gavin Grant at the head of his own table dispensinghospitality to his guest was a different person from the shy boy sheknew. Here he was a man with an air of authority, strong and yet kindand gentle. 

He soon forgot his embarrassment in the joy of her presence. They grewvery merry over Auntie Elspie's beau again, Gavin taking great creditto himself for having arranged the match. 

"She'll be goin' off with him one o' these days, " prophesied AuntieJanet, "and indeed, we'll all leave ye, if you don't mind and let uswork out in the field when we like, " she threatened. 

"Indeed you ought to let the girls help you with that field ofpotatoes, Gavie, " said Auntie Elspie. "He won't let one of us do ahand's turn beyond the house, Christina, " she complained, turning toher guest. "Did ye ever hear the like?"

A telegraphic message flashed across the table between Auntie Flora andAuntie Janet which Gavin did not see. 

"We jist have no life with him at all, " said Auntie Flora, "he's thatthrawn. "

"I think I'll jist have to take him in hand, myself, " said the livelyAuntie Janet. 

"I can manage them all but Auntie Janet, " Gavin said brazenly. "Ididn't start early enough with her. I brought up the other two better. But I'll get her broken in, in time. "

The three Aunties went off into loud gay laughter that echoed far outover the bright garden. They declared he was quite beyond them, andhow did Christina suppose they ever put up with such a rascal?

They lingered long at the table and after the gay supper was overChristina was loath to go; she was having such a good time. So she didnot need much coaxing to prevail upon her to stay till the cows weremilked. They could surely do without her for once. It was Fridaynight and Jimmie would help Uncle Neil and the girls, she admitted. Soshe ran out to the barn with a pail, though Gavin was determined sheshould not milk, and she helped with the separator, doing everythingwith her usual swiftness, and the Aunties looked on in amazement andadmiration. 

The short Autumn evening had descended in a soft purple haze and agreat round golden moon was riding up over Craig-Ellachie whenChristina put on her hat and declared reluctantly that she must leave. She was ladened with gifts: a jar of tomato relish, a huge cake ofmaple sugar, a bottle of a new kind of liniment for Grandpa, and suchan armful of dahlias and phlox and asters and gladioli as Christina hadnever seen in her life. 

The Aunties and Gavin all came with her as far as the pasture barswhere the tall ghosts of the corn stood whispering in the twilight. The two younger sisters were for going all the way with her over thehills, but Auntie Elspie, with her deeper insight, interfered. 

"Gavie'll go and carry the flowers for you, Christina, " she said. "We'll have to be gettin' away back, girls. " And the girls, beingyoung themselves, understood, and bade Christina good-night, with manyadmonitions to come back again and warnings to Gavie to take good careof her. Gavin put the bottle of liniment in one pocket and the catsupin another, the relish and the maple sugar in a third and bundling thebouquet under his arm in a fashion that made Auntie Flora scream withdismay, walked by Christina's side across the dim pasture field, withthe golden and purple sunset ahead of them and the silver moonlightbehind coming down over Craig-Ellachie. The night was warm and stilland the endless song of the grass, the swan song of all that was leftof Summer, filled the air. 

Christina felt perfectly happy and care-free. A career seemed afar-off, nebulous thing that one need not fret over. It was verypleasant to be walking up over the hills in the moonlight and sunsetwith Gavin at her side carrying flowers for her. She felt it would bebeautiful to be able to always stroll around this way with the scent ofrosemary heavy in the air, and never to bother to look forward to acollege course. They chatted away happily and she told him about theirsearch for the Harebell, telling him that Uncle Neil said he wouldknow, and he quoted long stanzas from "The Lady of the Lake, " and"Marmion. " And they discussed the new song-book he had bought andquarrelled over their favourite Scotch song. And he did not confessthat his was the one she had heard him singing that afternoon as heploughed the back field. 

They crossed the end of the Slash, where Gavin had to help her throughthe tangle of bushes. And did she remember how she had given him herberries that day, he asked. 

Christina laughed, but Gavin was sober. "It was a beautiful thing todo, " he said, "and now you have done it again for Sandy. "

"No, no, " said Christina, "it was nothing; I could not be happy to goand let Sandy stay. "

"But you will go some day?" added Gavin, his voice sunk to a tremulouswhisper. 

"Yes, perhaps next Fall, Allister and John both say, if the crops turnout well next summer. But it's a long way to look ahead. "

They had come down to the level again, along the back lane and up tothe little gate that led in from the barnyard. 

Gavin put the flowers into her arms and handed her the many gifts. 

"Won't you come in, Gavin?" she asked. "There might be a letter fromSandy. "

"Thank you, " he said gratefully. "No, I must not be going in to-night, Christine. Thank you for your visit. You made my Aunties very happy. And you have made me very happy, too, " he added in a whisper. He sawthe look of embarrassment on her face and instantly stopped. Gavin wasa true gentleman at heart and guessed when he was bordering onforbidden ground. He walked away and Christina went slowly up the path. 

Perhaps, after all, there was something in the saying that homekeepinghearts are happiest, she reflected. It did not seem quite so dreary tolook forward to always living in Orchard Glen. 

CHAPTER V

"HEY! JOHNNIE COPE"

After that visit to Craig-Ellachie Gavin was a new person to Christina. She was humiliated to remember that she had ever presumed to make funof him. He was good and kind and chivalrous, and Sandy was right whenhe declared that Gavin knew far more than half the fellows around thevillage who thought themselves so much smarter. Christina thoughtabout him often these soft slumbrous Autumn days and said to herselfthat, should he ever ask to walk home with her again, she would surelybe much kinder than she had been. And she could not help wonderingjust a little why he did not try. 

Indeed, had Gavin only known, he was very near gaining his heart'sdesire, when an unfortunate event snatched away his chance and tore himdown from the heights to which he had unconsciously risen. 

All the previous Winter and Summer the Temperance Society, which wasthe Presbyterian Choir, which was the Methodist Choir, had beenpractising strenuously for a concert. This weekly choir practice wasreally a community singing. Young and old, Presbyterians, Baptists andMethodists went to it, and Tremendous K. Led them. There was an innercircle that sang on Sundays, in the Presbyterian Church in the morningand the Methodist Church in the evening. And they sang in the BaptistChurch, too, on each alternate Sunday afternoon. For the Baptistminister lived in Avondell, and gave Orchard Glen only two services amonth. 

So this Union Choir decided to give a grand concert under the auspicesof the Temperance Society to raise money to buy new chairs for thehall, and perhaps a new table if there was money enough. As the dateof the concert approached the practices were twice a week, and everyTuesday and Thursday, from eight o'clock till half-past nine, Tremendous K. 's big voice might be heard booming:

"Watch your time, there! Sing up, can't you? Give her a lift! Don'tpull as if you was haulin' a stun boat up the hill!"

It was just such drilling that had made the Orchard Glen choir famousover the whole countryside, and caused them to be in demand for teameetings all through the Winter. 

But the drilling was becoming wearisome, for the choir had beenpractising for a very long time indeed. The date of the concert hadbeen set again and again, and on every occasion some other affairinterfered. 

After many vicissitudes the date had been finally settled for theevening of the first of October, and no sooner was it set, and set forthe twentieth time, too, than the Methodist minister announced a weekof special meetings at his church as there was an Evangelist availableat that date!

This was a serious affair and the Methodists in the choir were forhaving another postponement. 

"When's the concert to be?" asked Willie Brown one evening, as theytook a rest, and a paper bag of candy was passed round from Marmaduke. 

"Haven't you been told straight ahead for a month that it's the firstof October!" cried Tremendous K. In his most tremendous voice, "andit's not goin' to be a minute later, neither!"

"That's the first night of the special meetings in our church, " put inMinnie Brown, sharply, "and father wouldn't think of letting us come. "

Tremendous K. Scowled. "Looky here, " he declared, "we've been puttingoff this here concert for some dog fight or another for about twoyears, and I don't care if King George the Third was goin' to havespecial meetin's right in the hall that night, we're goin' to have thatconcert!"

Tremendous K. Was exceedingly loyal to both King and country, but hecould never remember which George it was that occupied the throne, andhad no notion of suggesting that one should rise from the dead. 

"You don't call special services in a church a dogfight, I hope, " putin Tilly Holmes's father, his eyebrows bristling. Mr. Holmes was aBaptist and had no intention of attending the Methodist meetings, buthe felt he ought to stand for the principle of the thing, especially asTremendous K. Was a Presbyterian. 

"I never said nothing of the sort!" denied the choir leader hotly, being himself a bit troubled in his conscience. "But what I do say isthat we've put off this thing so that it can't be put off no longer ifit's to be sung before the crack o' doom! The concert's on the firstof October, or not at all. Here! all turn to page thirty-four, theopening chorus, 'All's Well. ' Everybody, whoop her up, now!"

That was the beginning of the trouble; the next evening the Browns andseveral other good Methodists were not at practice and neither were theHolmeses. Mr. Wylie, the Methodist minister, went to Mr. Sinclairabout it and Mr. Sinclair said it was no more a Presbyterian affairthan a Methodist. And the Baptist minister stood aloof and said healways knew these union affairs would never bring anything but trouble. 

The thinned ranks of the choir closed up, though the loss of theBrowns, who were all musical, was a staggering blow. Tilly Holmescried so hard that her father had to let her come back, and two orthree of the less faithful Methodists returned, pending the finaldecision in regard to the date. And Tremendous K. Went on, stubbornlywaving his baton in the face of the whole Methodist congregation. 

No serious trouble might have arisen, however, had not the two who werealways a source of dissension in the village, put their wicked headstogether. To be quite fair, for once in their lives, Trooper Tom andMarmaduke were without guile when they decided to invite old PiperLauchie McDonald from Glenoro to come and play at the concert. Theywere merely actuated by the pure motive of making the entertainmentmore attractive than the Methodist gathering, with, perhaps, thesubconscious thought that it was a question if Old Tory Brown, who wasScotch, even if he were a Methodist, could resist leaving a merepreaching to hear a real Piper. The two were willing to bet almostanything on the superior attractions of the music, Duke offering to putup his wooden leg against Trooper's Mounted Police Medal. 

Tremendous K. Was not very enthusiastic when, with great diplomacy, Marmaduke suggested the bagpipes as an addition to the programme. TheHendersons were very rigid concerning certain worldly amusements, and aPiper was always associated with dancing and kindred foolishness. Whenit was made clear that Lauchie would draw a crowd, which a Piper alwaysdid, he yielded, and Marmaduke and Trooper borrowed The Woman's car, and whirled away up over the hills to Glenoro one evening and invitedLauchie to play in Orchard Glen on the night of the big concert. 

Christina had been faithfully attending all the practices. She was nota real choir member, but Tremendous K. Said he couldn't get up aconcert without at least one Lindsay in it, and she was the only oneavailable. For John could not sing, Mary had lost interest ineverything outside Port Stewart, and Ellen was too busy with thetrousseau to attend to anything else. 

On the evening of the last rehearsal, as Christina went down the hillwith a crowd of her girl friends, Tilly met them in great excitement. 

"Wallace Sutherland's come home, " she announced, breathlessly. "TheDoctor met him in town with his car, and he's going to stay a weekbefore he goes back to college. Mrs. Sutherland told Mrs. Sinclair andshe told ma. "

This was surely interesting news. Wallace Sutherland had not been inOrchard Glen for any length of time, since he was a little boy and wentto the public school. He was attending a University over in the greatUnited States, and spent his holidays with the wealthy uncle who waspaying his college bills. Mrs. Sutherland often went to Boston tovisit him and her rich brother, but Wallace had spent very little timein the old home. Folks said that his mother was afraid of his becomingfamiliar with the country folk and so kept him out of the way. 

Christina laughed at Tilly and her news. The storekeeper's daughterwas always in a high state of excitement over some wonderful happeningin Orchard Glen, while Christina was prepared to testify that nothingat all ever happened within the ring of its sleepy green hills, and sheimmediately forgot all about Mr. Wallace Sutherland. 

The next evening was the date of the concert, and excitement ran high. When Trooper and Marmaduke had visited the Piper they had madeelaborate arrangements for his entry into Orchard Glen. He was to staywith old Peter McNabb, a relative who lived about half-a-mile above thevillage, until the hour for the concert had almost arrived, then he wasto come sweeping down the hill, when the crowds were gathering, andmarch playing into the hall where he would open the proceedings. Andif he did not sweep all the folks around the Methodist church back intothe hall with him, then Trooper had missed his guess. Piper Lauchiewas a true Highlander, with a love of the dramatic, and he fell in withthe arrangements with all his heart. The Dunn farm was just next toOld Peter's house, so early in the afternoon Trooper went over andascertained to his satisfaction that Lauchie was there, with his pipesin fine tune. The two old men were smoking and telling tales ofpioneer days on the shores of Lake Simcoe, with as much zest as if theywere relating them for the first time instead of the forty-first. So, with everything so well arranged, there was seemingly no cause foranxiety, and not the most pessimistic Methodist could have prophesieddisaster. 

The evening of October first was bright and warm, and at an early hourthe rival crowds began to gather; the worshippers and the revellers, Mr. Wylie designated them in a remark made afterwards to Mr. Sinclair, a remark the Presbyterian minister did not forget in a few weeks. TheMethodist church, which was up on the slope of the hill, began to fillslowly and the Temperance hall, down near the store corner, rapidly. Agroup of young men lingered at the door of the hall with their usualinability to enter a meeting until a few minutes after the hour ofstarting. There was also a small group at the door of the Methodistchurch farther up the hill. They were not the customary loungers, buta small self-appointed committee of the Methodist fathers on theoutlook for any of the flock who might stumble into the pitfall of theTemperance hall on their way to church. 

The visiting minister drove into the village, passed the hall in awhirl of dust, and hurried into the church. Dusk was falling, thelamps were lit in both gathering places and the light shone from thewindows. 

It was now on the eve of eight o'clock, in another moment the meetingon the hill would open, and the Piper had not yet appeared. Marmadukeand Trooper, consulting in the middle of the street where there was aview of the hill up as far as the Lindsay gate, were growing anxious. It would be quite too bad if, after all their plans, the Piper shouldfail them. Trooper was for going after the missing musician, but Dukecounselled patience. He fancied he saw a figure on the hill now andany moment they might hear the pipes. 

But eight o'clock came, the group of watchers on the hill moved inside, and the strains of a hymn came through the open door and windows of theMethodist church. There was no hope of catching any stray sheep in thePiper's net now!

Tremendous K. Came rushing out of the hall declaring that they couldnot wait any longer, the boys were beginning to stamp and yell for theprogramme, and Dr. McGarry was as mad as a wet hen. Then Dr. McGarry, who was chairman, came right on his heels, his watch in his hand, demanding what in common sense and thunder they meant by holding up themeeting this way. That confounded piper of theirs could play for anhour after he got here if he wanted to, but were they going to sit upall night waiting for him? He had been called to go and see old GrannyAnderson just as soon as this show was over, and she wouldn't be likelyto put off dying until that Piper appeared as if he was Gabriel withhis trump!

The Doctor was a hard man to argue with when he was angry, inasmuch ashe did not stop talking at all, and so there was no chance to stateyour case. So it was decided that the Choir had better sing theopening chorus, while Trooper would go up the hill and hasten thePiper's tune if possible, Duke remaining on guard at the door to seethat he did not enter during the rendering of some other selection. 

So Tremendous K. And the Doctor dashed back into the hall and Trooperran up the village street. But before he had come to the bridge acrossthe stream, he discerned a figure appearing out of the dusk on thehillside and the next moment, high, clear and thrilling sounded theopening skirl of the pipes! Trooper gave a whoop of joy, and ran backwaving the good news which had already arrived on the evening breeze. Marmaduke sent one of the boys flying into the Hall to see if theprogramme would not wait another moment, but he was just a second toolate. The opening chorus, "All's Well, " was started, and already theycould hear Joanna's voice on the high notes. 

"Never mind, " cried Marmaduke as Trooper ran up breathless, "he'll comein as neat as a tack right after this piece, and we couldn't a' got anymore into the Hall anyway, " he added gloatingly, "even if he'd beenplayin' all day. "

He was certainly playing now, and most enticingly. It was thatteasing, alluring lilt, "Tullochgorum, " and Trooper went out into themiddle of the road and danced the Highland Fling to it, while Marmaduketook his place opposite, hopping about in a cloud of dust, on his onefoot and holding up his peg leg in a very elegant fashion as a daintyyoung lady might hold her train. 

"Say, he'll bust the church windows when he's passin'!" cried Trooper, stopping to listen to the music soaring louder and clearer. The nightwas warm, and the doors and windows of the church were all wide openand Piper Lauchie was making as much noise as a company of massed bandsmarching past. 

"It's turned out better than we intended, " said Marmaduke in improperglee. "Why didn't we think of it?"

Now, Piper Lauchie had not been in Orchard Glen that summer, and thelast occasion upon which he had visited the village had been on his wayhome from a picnic, under rather merry circumstances which left hismemory of the place pleasantly hazy. Trooper had cautioned him tomarch right into the hall on his arrival, explaining that the buildingwas on his left hand side after he crossed the bridge, and that hecould not miss it for it would be all lit up and he and Marmaduke wouldbe at the door to see him march triumphantly inside. So far he hadfollowed his instructions to the letter. He tuned up half way down thehill and came marching across the bridge, and then the Dreadful Thinghappened. 

It was almost dark by this time and surely neither the Piper norTrooper nor Marmaduke was to blame that the Methodist church should beplaced on the left hand side after you crossed the bridge, and that itshould be all lit up so that the Piper could not miss it! And he didnot miss it, either. The sight of the rows of heads against thewindows, all in the attitude of waiting, inspired the musician togreater effort. He shifted his chanter a bit, put more wind into it, and burst into a gayer and faster tune, and when he reached the bit ofsidewalk opposite the door of the Methodist church, he whirled about, with a flirt of his kilt and a flip of his plaid, swept up the steps, through the open door and went screaming up the church aisle right tothe pulpit steps, fairly raising the roof to the tune of "Hey! JohnnieCope, are ye waukin' yet?"

And all the while this terrible mishap was occurring, the Choir in thehall farther down the street, just at the moment when all was going asill as human affairs could go, was singing in false security, "All'sWell!"

When Trooper and Duke, waiting admiringly in the middle of the road, saw their charge suddenly disappear into the pitfall of the Methodistchurch, they stood paralysed for one dreadful moment, like men who hadseen the earth open and swallow everything upon which they had settheir hearts. Then Trooper gave a terrific yell, the war whoop he hadlearned on the prairie, and turned and looked at his companion indisaster. Duke was beyond uttering even a yell. He collapsed silentlyupon the grass by the roadside, and rolled back and forth in a kind ofconvulsion, while Trooper staggered to the fence and hung limply overit like a wet sack. And all the while inside the hall higher andstronger and more confident, swelled the words of the chorus indreadful irony, "All's Well, All's Well!"

Nobody could ever quite explain how the Piper got ejected from thechurch and transferred to the hall where he belonged. There were somany conflicting reports. 

Some said that Mr. Wylie gave him a solemn talking to upon the error ofhis position, and the visiting minister upon the error of his ways, being under the impression that he and old Peter had been drinking, which, strange to say, was really not the case. Others declared thatthe Piper did not stop playing long enough for any one to speak, butwent roaring up one aisle to come screeching down the other. No oneseemed quite clear on the subject, for the Methodists were too angry tospeak of the affair coherently and for a long time it was not safe toask them about it. 

But upon one part of the history all eye-witnesses, except the Piperhimself, were agreed, and that was that Mrs. Johnnie Dunn left her seatand chased the Piper down the church aisle with her umbrella. TheWoman would have preferred to attend the concert, though she was aMethodist, but Trooper's lively interest in it had decided her toadhere to her church, and she was not slow to take this opportunity ofshowing her disapproval of his choice. 

Whatever happened, Piper Lauchie did finally reach the hall, but he wastoo angry to either play or speak. There was no sign of the committeethat was to meet him, for Trooper and Marmaduke had fled down the darkalley between the hall and the blacksmith shop and were lying in an oldshed, trying to keep from shouting. 

Gavin Grant had arrived late, after a very busy day, and with a littlegroup of boys had also witnessed the catastrophe. Gavin stepped up tothe old man to apologise and explain, but Lauchie shoved him aside andmarched noisily into the hall, ready to murder any one who stood in hisway. 

He burst in just as Dr. McGarry arose and announced:

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next item on this programme is----"

And Piper Lauchie shouted from the back of the building in a high thinyell:

"The next item will be that some one will be hafing his brains knockedout, whatefer!"

And he tramped straight up the aisle to the platform, his old plaidstreaming from his shoulders, his pipes held like a drawn claymore. 

The Chairman, like the rest of the crowd, had been listening to "All'sWell" and did not dream that things had been going otherwise. He stoodfor a moment staring at the enraged Piper and then Gavin, who had justslipped into his seat in the choir, leaned forward, and touching theChairman's elbow, strove to explain. 

"Mr. McDonald went to the wrong meeting, " he whispered, but he got nofarther. 

Old Lauchie slammed his pipes down on the Chairman's table, upsetting aglass of water and a big bouquet of flowers from Craig-Ellachie, andturned upon Gavin, his fists clenched. 

"I would be going to the wrong meeting, would I?" he shouted, and Gavinbacked away hastily. The old man pursued him hotly. 

"It would be you and your fell tribe that would be sending me to theMessodis meeting house!" he shouted. "Ta Messodis, " he repeated inwithering scorn, "I'll Messodis you----"

Gavin was continuing to back away in a most ungallant fashion, till hegot to the wall and there was no means of escape, when rescue came froman unexpected quarter. 

Just at the end of the front row of seats, where the pursuit came to ahalt, Wallace Sutherland was sitting with his mother. He had been thecentre of many admiring glances, especially from the girls. And indeedhe was a fine-looking young fellow and it was no wonder that his unclewas so proud of him and his mother so afraid. He was hugely enjoyingthe Piper's tumultuous entry, and his black eyes were dancing withdelight, when the old man, his red blazing eyes fixed upon his supposedenemy, was backing Gavin into a corner. 

But Mrs. Sutherland, for all that Orchard Glen pronounced her proud andcold, was a timid, gentle woman, and Lauchie's appearance filled herwith panic. 

"Oh, Wallace, my dear, " she whispered in alarm. "Oh, how dreadful. He's going to strike him----"

Wallace was very loath to put an end to the fun, but he rose andtouched the enraged Piper on the arm. 

"Mr. McDonald, " he whispered tactfully, "my uncle, Dr. McGarry, is theChairman and he, --he's just a little bit nervous. Won't you get yourpipes and play for us? He doesn't know what to do next, and we've beenwaiting anxiously to hear you. "

Wallace Sutherland's charming manner seldom failed him and it did notnow. The Piper looked at him and the fierce rage died from his eyes. The clenched fists dropped to his side and Gavin slipped into a seat. Wallace nodded to his uncle and Dr. McGarry hastily announced, withoutany embarrassing explanations, that the Piper had been unavoidablydelayed but that he was now ready to favour them with a selection forwhich they were all so anxiously waiting. 

So Lauchie shouldered his instrument and took his place on theplatform. The storm was abating but there were still thunderings andoccasional flashes of lightning concerning the crass ignorance andstupidity of the people of Orchard Glen and Methodists the world over. 

"Come up to Glenoro and we'll be learning you manners, " came rumblingout of the thunder cloud. "We'll be showing you how they treat a Piperthere. "

But by this time the pipes were beginning to scream their opening note, and Lauchie was blowing his anger into the chanter. The tune rose on ashrill spiral and high and clear it poured forth the challenging notesof a fierce pibroch, the war song of the Clan McDonald. The playermarched back and forth across the platform keeping quick step to themad tune, that rose louder and faster and shriller at each step. 

The audience began to clap, to stamp, to cheer, and still the war cryof the McDonalds went screaming to the roof; and finally when the wallswere beginning to rock, and the women were becoming terrified, thePiper whirled down the aisle and swept out of the building on the hightide of his song. The young men in the back of the hall followed himin noisy hilarity, but he stopped for nobody. He went marchingstraight up the village street towards home, the defiant notes risingin a wild crescendo. And oh, how he blew with lungs of leather likefifty pipers together, when he was passing the Methodist church!

Dr. McGarry called the audience to order with some difficulty, and therest of the performance went on quite decorously. And when the lastnotes of the pipes died away in the hills, Marmaduke and Troopercrawled from their hiding place and sat on the hall steps till theprogramme was over, holding each other up. 

"Gosh, " whispered Marmaduke, wiping his eyes weakly. "Who'd 'a'thought that a McDonald from Glenoro wouldn't know a Methodist churchwhen he saw one?"

"It was the sight o' the Temperance hall that turned his stomach, "lamented Trooper. "We might 'a' known he'd shy at it. "

The Piper played himself away up and out of Orchard Glen, vowingsolemnly, like the Minstrel Boy, that he would tear the cords of hisinstrument asunder ere they should sound again within the hearing ofthat traitorous community, a vow that old Lauchie was to live to seebroken, under very stirring circumstances. 

But there were other cords torn asunder in Orchard Glen by theunfortunate contingency of that fatal evening. The Hendersons and theBrowns, who had been lifelong friends, stopped speaking to each other;Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Wylie met on the most frigidly polite terms; theunion choir, which was the pride of Tremendous K. 's heart and the gloryof Orchard Glen, fell to pieces, and a line of demarkation was drawncarefully between the two denominations where so recently every one hadtalked about church union. 

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn did not allow whatever part her nephew and his chumhad in the affair to go unnoticed. She advertised it, and hinted thatperhaps the Piper was not so much to blame after all. Indeed the pastrecord of Trooper and Marmaduke afforded little weight in proving theirinnocence, and public suspicion fastened upon them. Neither of themtook any pains to establish their innocence; indeed, Trooper secretlywondered why they had never thought of planning the affair, and wasrather ashamed of his lack of enterprise. 

But both he and Marmaduke felt that The Woman pressed the case againstthem just a little too strongly. 

"We'll have to do something to make The Woman mind her own business, Troop, " Marmaduke declared, as they sat by the roaring fire in thestore one chilly afternoon. "She'll ruin our innocent and harmlessreputations if we don't. "

So the two put their heads together to plan a just retribution, butbefore it could be made to fall, The Woman astonished every one by anentirely new enterprise. She packed her trunk, and leaving Marthy andTrooper to take care of themselves, she went away to spend the Winteron a visit to a sister in California. 

But to no one was the night of the concert such a great occasion as itwas to Christina. Wallace Sutherland went back to his studies the nextweek, but the vision of his handsome smiling face and his gallantbehaviour remained vividly with her. She was filled with dismay at thecontrast Gavin Grant had presented to him that night. It did not dawnupon Christina's mind that Gavin would as soon have raised his hand toAuntie Elspie as to defend himself against poor old Piper Lauchie. Tilly had whispered that Gavin was scared, and the other girls, withJoanna's able assistance, emphasised the shameful fact. So when shesaw him after the concert, standing on the edge of the bar of lightthat streamed from the hall door, she slipped away as he turned towardsher and escaped with John in the darkness. But Gavin noticed her hasteand interpreted it aright. 

The Aunties sent a gay message by John, when he was over at theCraig-Ellachie threshing, to the effect that Elspie had broken off herengagement. She had heard that Piper Lauchie had taken to going to theMethodist church, and they had warned her that they would not abide aMethodist body in the family. But Christina could not joke about thePiper with Gavin, she felt he really must be humiliated, when, in fact, Gavin felt no more at fault than if he had backed out of the way of anenraged child and dodged his blows. 

But indeed Christina was giving him and his affairs very littlethought. Her Dream Knight had taken form, she even knew his name andhis station in life. And though he still rode gaily beyond the horizonshe could not but think of him and wonder when she might see him again. 

CHAPTER VI

SAINT VALENTINE'S PRANK

But indeed there was no time for dreams with the days of preparationfor Mary's wedding flying past. It had been set for the Christmasholidays when the boys would be home, and Annie Brown, who was theneighbourhood dressmaker, spent almost all her days at the Lindsaysnow, for Allister's cheque had bought many yards of silk and lace andMary must be as fine as possible to go away and live in a house in townand be dressed up every afternoon of her life. 

Christmas came with a rush on snow laden wings, and the boys came homeand the old house was filled with noise and laughter. Sandy could notdo enough for Christina, he followed her about, that she might not somuch as lift a pail of water without his assistance, for he was alwayskeenly conscious of all she was doing for him, and his conduct madeChristina far happier than a college course could possibly make anyhuman being. And then came the wedding before anybody was reallyready, as weddings always do, with all the MacGillivrays from PortStewart and all the McDonald relations from Glenoro. And then suddenlyit was all over and Sandy and Neil were gone back to Toronto and Jimmieto Algonquin; and Christina awoke to the astonishing and dismaying factthat Mary had left them and gone far away to live in a home of her own. This last fact dwarfed all others and threw even Sandy's absence intolighter gloom. 

Early in the Winter she paid a short visit to Mary's new home in PortStewart. It was a wonderful place, with slippery hardwood floors thathad to be polished instead of scrubbed, and shiny new furniture, andelectric lights all over--you could press a little button in the hallat the front door and the light would flash up in the cellar; and hotwater upstairs in the bathroom; and a telephone that rang your ownnumber only, and through which no one could overhear what you weresaying; and a piano, and Mary taking music lessons, and she a marriedwoman! All these wonders had to be shouted again and again to Grandpaon Christina's return, and he always ended the recital by clapping heron the back and declaring, --

"Och, och, indeed, and it is our own electric light that will be backagain, and it will jist be darkness when she is away. "

If Christina came home filled with the wonder of Mary's new house shewas secretly much more impressed with the wonder of Mary's new life. Surely it was having all your dreams come true to be married to ahandsome man who adored you and go to live with him in a fine housewith a piano and polished floors. This must be the Great Adventure, not second even to a college course. What if the road out of OrchardGlen, which she had sought so persistently, and as yet without success, should not be the steep Path up Helicon, after all, but the rose hedgedlane along which Mary had gone? Christina's heart left her no doubt asto which road she would choose, were the choice hers. But when one'sTrue Knight was far away and merely nodded carelessly to one when hewas near, what chance had one? She longed more keenly than ever to getout into the world of wider opportunity. 

The only excitement of the Winter was going to the post office for theboys' letters. They always came on Tuesday. Neil wrote home everySunday of his life and his letter reached Orchard Glen post office onTuesday afternoon. And Sandy wrote Sundays, too, or if he missed hesent a hurried note or post card later in the week. Then there wasMary's weekly letter, an occasional one from Allister, and generallyBruce's. At first Bruce was as faithful as Neil, but as the Winteradvanced he occasionally missed a Tuesday. 

"None from your beau to-day, " Christina called out one blusteryFebruary afternoon when she brought in the mail, and handed out lettersfrom Sandy and Neil. "He's likely got another girl in Toronto andforgotten all about you. "

She was surprised to see that Ellen did not take her nonsense in herusual smooth good-natured way. She flushed and said nothing. Thereafter Christina kept a strict censorship over Bruce's letters, andwas slightly troubled to find that they were rather irregular. Ellen'sanswer always went back the very next day, and Christina could not helpseeing that her sister was anxious and worried until another came. Andoccasionally a wearisome time elapsed before it did come. 

At first Christina's unconquerable cheerfulness forbade its troublingher much. Bruce was probably working very hard as this was his firstyear. Sandy sometimes missed a week altogether and even Neil was knownto delay a day or two when examinations were near. As for Jimmie, hedeclared that when he went to college he wouldn't write to them at allexcept when he was home for the holidays. After all it must really bea great deal of trouble to have a sweetheart, as much care and worry, one seemed, as young Mrs. Martin's cross baby. She just couldn'tunderstand anybody fretting over one, and she went round the house, putting wood in the stoves and seeing that Grandpa was kept warm, andsinging, "Oh, I'm glad my heart's my ain yet, And I'll keep it sae all my life, Till some bonny laddie comes by That has wits that can wile a guid wife!"

On Valentine's Day she brought home a whole armful of letters. Therewas one for her from Allister, and she tore it open first, while Elleneagerly opened one she had received. Allister had enclosed a valentinefor Christina, a horrible picture of a tall, thin, frowsy womansweeping a house, and beneath an atrocious rhyme about the cross oldmaid who always stayed at home and swept and scrubbed. Christinaremembered with glee that she had sent him one, quite as ugly, a fatold farmer, mean and tight-fisted, growing rich out of his ill-gottengains. She read his letter, even before she took time to show thevalentine to Grandpa, and it sent her dancing through the house in away that alarmed her mother. For Allister's letter had, once more, opened up the door into the big outside world. 

"I have to go back East on business next Summer some time, " he wrote, "and I'm going to make you come back here for a visit. The richbachelors are as thick as gophers out here and I think I ought to dosomething for them, even if I can't get a wife for myself. So I'mgoing to get all the Orchard Glen girls out here, one by one, and Ithink you'll do all right for a start. Campbell and his wife are on myplace now and they'll be fine folks for you to stay with. .. . " Therewas more about the details of her visit, but Christina could not readit for very joy. She went flying around the kitchen waving the letterover her head. 

"Hurrah!" she cried, "I'm going out West! I'm going to Alberta! MyValentine's sent for me!"

"What's all this?" cried Uncle Neil, coming in from the barn andstamping the snow from his feet. "I hope you're not thinking aboutgoing to-day, there's likely a blizzard on the prairies. "

Christina flew at him, crying out incoherent bits from Allister'sletter, and then rushed into the sitting-room where her mother sat bythe stove. 

"Be wise, Christina, be wise, " warned her mother, after she hadrejoiced mildly with her, "I'm often feared for you, when I see you sobent on the things of the world. "

Christina pulled her high spirits down to a discreet level and wentback to the corner of the kitchen, where Grandpa sat in his old rocker, to share the joyful tidings with him. But before she had attracted hisattention from the book of Moody's sermons he was reading, she suddenlystopped. She realised with a pang that this wonderful good fortunethat had come to her would be exceedingly ill news for poor Grandpa. There was no need to tell him until the time was near for her to go. She went back to the table and picked up the other letters she haddropped in her excitement. 

A glance at Ellen showed that there was no valentine message fromBruce; but Christina found three for herself. 

There was a very gorgeous one, all red hearts and lovers' knots, fromSandy. The second was from an unknown source. It was a dainty thing, fashioned by an artistic hand, a little sprig of heather glued to acard to form the letter C. Beneath was written in a masculine hand. 

 "My Love is young and fair, My Love has golden hair, And eyes so blue And heart so true That none with her compare. "

Christina wondered over it for a few minutes; the lines seemedfamiliar. Where had she heard them before, she asked with beatingheart. The postmark was Algonquin, but then every one who sent avalentine from Orchard Glen mailed it in Algonquin. She looked at itclosely, and then noticed the scent of rosemary. It had come fromCraig-Ellachie! and the little lines were from the song "A WarriorBold" that Gavin sang. 

Christina was touched. It was so ungracious to receive gifts fromLove's storehouse without even a thrill of gratitude. She had thoughtGavin was forgetting her. He was so good, and so kind, too, and sheloved all the Grant Girls so. But how was it possible to make a heroout of a young man who could only sing of heroic deeds, and wouldnever, never perform one?

She slowly opened the last valentine. It belonged to the class thatshe and Allister had exchanged. It was very ugly and very funny; apicture of a tall, lank woman in spectacles and a college gown, herclaw-like hands holding a ponderous volume. Christina laughed gailyand mentally blamed John, either he or Jimmie was surely the guiltyperson. 

But she looked at the post-mark again and saw to her surprise that ithad a United States stamp, and the place stamped on the envelope wasone she knew nothing whatever about, El Monte, California. 

"Look at this, " she cried, running to Ellen. "Who do we know inCalifornia?"

"Why, what in the world?" asked Ellen in bewilderment. "I've got aperfectly horrible one from the very same place. "

It was quite true, a very ugly and insulting thing it was, with thesame post-mark, El Monte, and furthermore, it transpired that there wasone for John and one for Jimmie in the same queer printed hand with thesame postmark! and as for Uncle Neil's--a foolish old man with afiddle--it was quite the funniest thing Christina had ever seen. 

When John and Uncle Neil had received their insults and laughed overthem, there was much speculation. The family could scarcely eat theirsupper through wondering who had sent them. 

"El Monte, " spelled John, spreading them all out on the table beforehim. "Now, who is it we know in that place? I've heard somebody talkabout going there. "

"Oh, " cried Jimmie with one of his high-pitched yells, "that's whereThe Woman went! Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's there for the Winter. That'swhere her sister lives, I heard Trooper say so the other day. "

The family looked at each other dumbfounded. 

It surely could not be possible. The Woman had always been a faithfulfriend of Mrs. Lindsay and it was hardly likely she would take all thistrouble to send such foolish messages to her family. Indeed Mrs. Johnnie Dunn would think twice of the money before she spent it on suchnonsense. 

"Indeed it would not be Sarah, " declared Mrs. Lindsay as they arguedand speculated. "She would be far from doing such a thing. Maybe youwill find soon who it is. "

But further light on the subject only went to fasten suspicion uponSarah. It appeared that the Lindsays were not by any means the onlyones in Orchard Glen who had received valentines from California. There was such a rain of love's tokens upon the village on theFourteenth of February that Tilly and her father were nearly drowned inthe deluge and had to call in the aid of Mrs. Holmes and Aunt Jinny tohelp keep their heads above water!

And the day after the Fourteenth was almost as bad, many having beendelayed, probably owing to congestion of the mails between El Monte andOrchard Glen. 

And every person in the village, almost, from Granny Minns to theMartins' youngest and naughtiest child, received a valentine, a veryugly and insulting valentine, too, from that place in California whereThe Woman had gone to spend the Winter!

At first the universality of the insult was not recognised, as eachperson strove to conceal his own personal injury. But neighbour beganto confide in neighbour till at last the whole evil scheme wasuncovered. 

No one had seemed insignificant enough to be overlooked, no one washigh enough to be immune. Even Mrs. Sutherland and the ministers werenot slighted. Dr. McGarry's was a picture of a quack giving breadpills to old women and babies, and he roared and laughed long and loudover it, and showed it to every one in spite of his sister. 

The Methodist minister's, the Baptist minister's, and Mr. Sinclair'swere all exactly alike, violent-looking preachers with gusts of textsflying from their wide-open mouths, and sly rhymes concerning theirdenominational differences. The pretty little school teacher's was somean that she couldn't go to school the next day, she cried so hard;and Mrs. Sinclair said that, of course, one should be above thesethings, but as far as she was concerned, she felt she needed all theChristian grace she possessed to forgive the unscrupulous person whohad sent hers. 

At first it did not seem possible that Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, thatsensible, practical woman, could be the guilty party. At the veryworst, her friends felt, she might have told the names of the people inthe village, and some foolish mischief-maker--there were all kinds offolks in the States--had done the rest. But as each valentine wasrevealed it grew plainer that only some one intimately acquainted withthe life of Orchard Glen could have chosen with such evil sagacity. 

Who, for instance, outside Orchard Glen, knew that young Mrs. Martinhad been a perfect martinet in her teaching days, but had now lost allher old power with the rod, and her children were the terror of thevillage? And who but a neighbour could have known that Granny Minnsscolded Mitty all day long and pretended she was much more feeble thanshe really was? And who could have such an intimate knowledge of theflirtations of Tilly Holmes, and the dual organist's position held byMartha Henderson and Minnie McKenzie, and the coolness between Mr. Wylie and Mr. Sinclair since the night of the Piper's mistake?

It was Marmaduke who finally convinced the public mind that The Womanmust be the perpetrator of the valentines; not a difficult case toprove. 

He and Trooper had received quite the worst and most insulting of allthe mail bag and Trooper's was particularly stinging. Marmadukedeclared there was something in it that showed beyond doubt that itmust have been The Woman, but Trooper did not like to say so, seeingthat she was his aunt. But couldn't they see the postmark? And didn'tevery one know that she was visiting her sister in El Monte?

All the storms of the Winter were as a summer calm besides the gale thevalentines raised. Nobody talked about anything else. They would justwait till The Woman came home in the Spring and then they would showher that she could not insult her neighbours like that and her awaywintering in the South as if she were a millionairess!

The valentines was still the chief subject under discussion when TheWoman came back in April. 

The roads were too muddy to take the car to town, so Trooper and Marthymet her with the double buggy at Silver Creek, a nearby flag station, and drove home without preparing her for her reception. As they camedown the muddy street of Orchard Glen with the brown fields smiling inthe sun and the first hint of Spring showing in the soft tender tint ofthe willows beside the creek, The Woman declared that it was a sightbetter than California any day, and she was mighty glad to get home andsee all her old friends, and take a holt of things again, for shesupposed that she ought to be thankful if the two of them hadn't leteverything go to the dogs while she was away. 

They pulled up at the post office and The Woman hailed Mr. Holmes andTilly jovially. 

"Hello in there!" she shouted. "Still at the old job, I do declare!"Ordinarily the postmaster would have received her with the utmostcordiality, but he could not forget that picture of himself as the oldSocrates of the village giving forth spurious wisdom, and he repliedvery stiffly. 

Tilly merely shook hands in a great hurry and fled to the back of thestore, and young Mr. Martin, who was there in a panic for a bottle ofemetic for the second youngest who had drunk some shoe polish, did noteven take the trouble to speak, but dashed past her without a word. Hewondered if she would be sorry for what she had done if one of hischildren was to be poisoned. Marmaduke was at the store and Troopermade him climb into the buggy and drive home to help welcome his aunt. Duke was as cordial as ever and uproariously glad to see her, but hewas alone; throughout the village, averted faces and cold looks met heron every side. Even Joanna, coming down the street, who had abrilliant smile for Trooper, tossed her head and looked the other way, when his aunt spoke. 

"Now, what in the world's up and give all these folks the stomach ache, I'd like to know?" she asked in anger and bewilderment, as theysplashed through the muddy street. 

"It's all about them dretful valentines, Sarah, " complained the patientMarthy. "What ever did you send them for anyways?"

"Valentines?" she exclaimed. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Why, them Valentines you sent everybody. Most folks is awful madabout them. "

The two young men on the front seat were sitting side by side gazingover the blue-grey landscape with faces of rapt innocence. They didnot appear to be interested in the conversation in the back seat, buthis aunt gave Trooper a sharp poke with her umbrella. 

"What's this foolishness about valentines he's tellin' me about?"

"Aw, now, Aunt Sarah, you know, " he said, turning to her with gentlereproof. "He means them valentines you sent. "

"I didn't mind a scrap about mine, " put in Duke generously; "I knowedit was just your fun. They didn't need to get so mad. "

"That's what I told everybody, " supplemented Trooper. "I said you onlymeant it for a joke. "

Mrs. Dunn leaned back in the buggy seat helplessly. "If you ain't allgone clean out of your minds; will you tell me what you're ravin'about?" she demanded. 

It was some time before the young men could be persuaded to tell her, insisting upon taking her attitude as a joke. But finally the truthcame out. Every one in Orchard Glen had received an insultingvalentine from El Monte last Winter, and everybody, of course, blamedher and was as mad as mad could be. 

By the time they reached home and had sat down to the supper thatMarmaduke had prepared in the morning, The Woman was angry enough to goout and challenge every one in Orchard Glen to dare to say she had donethe fell deed. She began to question as to who had received themissives. Mrs. Sutherland? Yes, hers was a fright, the Doctor hadsaid, and the Doctor's was worse. Not Mrs. Wylie, surely? Why, Mrs. Wylie couldn't sleep the night after she got hers, and it didn't seemfair, her not really belonging to Orchard Glen. The Ministers? Oh, yes; theirs were awful sights, neither of them preached the same for amonth after. 

Surely Mary Lindsay didn't get one? No, but all the family did, andthe Grant Girls, too. The Grant Girls got terrors, folks said, andthere was some talk about Gavin saying he'd have the law about it. Gavin was awful sensitive about the Aunties and he was firing mad. 

Poor Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, her home-coming was completely spoiled! Shegot up early the next morning, and not even waiting to look over thepremises to see what damage Marthy and Trooper had done in her absence, she hitched up her mare and drove over through all the mud and water toCraig-Ellachie, and took in the Lindsays on her way back. There wasnothing lacking in the Grant Girls' welcome, and she was a littlecomforted but also much disturbed. The Aunties showed her theirvalentines, and Gavin's, but they laughed heartily over them, and Mrs. Lindsay allowed the girls to display theirs, assuring her that she hadnever believed her the sender. But it was beyond doubt that they hadall come from El Monte, and that the addresses had all been printed bythe same hand. 

The Woman spread them out on the table before her and meditated. "There's that young villain of a boy my sister has. He's anotherTrooper all over again, and worse, 'cause he ain't got me to trim himdown. He'd be capable of doing it. But he couldn't. He doesn't knoweven the names of folks here, unless Trooper--Trooper--" She stoppedand sat bolt upright. 

"I'll bet, " she said deliberately, while Christina fled from the roomthat she might laugh aloud, "I'll bet every cent I make out o' milkthis Summer that Trooper and that other emissary of Satan is at thebottom of this and you'll see I'll find out. "

But the damage had been done. Poor Mrs. Johnnie Dunn had a veryharmless but very great desire to shine before her neighbours. She hadexpected to return to Orchard Glen with a blare of trumpets andastonish every one with her tales of California with geraniums in thegarden at Christmas, and bathing in the ocean in January, and orangeseverywhere for the picking, and a host of kindred wonders in which heruntravelled neighbour friends were to be instructed. And instead shefound the very name of California and El Monte were a byword and ahissing in the mouths of the inhabitants of Orchard Glen, and had tospend the first month after her return in voluble explanations anddenials. 

CHAPTER VII

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE

It seemed to Christina as if there had never been a summer that openedso joyously. In the first place she was preparing to go West withAllister when he came home in July, and she would not be very far fromthe Mission Field where Neil had gone, and that was good fortune enoughin itself. Added to that, Sandy came home in May, and life was allholiday when Sandy was near, but best of all, at the closing ofcollege, who should come riding over the hills but her Dream Knight. He was to stay the whole summer, Tilly explained on Sunday when heappeared with his mother and uncle at church, and Mrs. Sutherland wasscared to let him go beyond the garden gate alone. 

Though his coming to Orchard Glen brought such joy to Christina, youngMr. Sutherland had really come home under a cloud, though his mothertook great care to turn it inside out for the public benefit and allowthe silver lining of Wallace's many virtues to shine through. He wasso handsome and so genuinely glad to see everybody in Orchard Glen, andso free and hearty in his manner, that it was very easy for people tobelieve the best of him. And indeed the worst was only that he hadbeen a little less studious in college than he should have been. 

He had barely passed his examinations in his first year, and now in hissecond, when he should have retrieved himself, he had gone underaltogether. And the worst of it all was that Uncle William, who waspaying his college bills, and who was rich and childless and wouldnever miss the money, was making a dreadful fuss. Wallace wrote himapologising deeply, and explaining just how it all happened, theinconvenient examinations having come on just when he was labouringunder a heavy cold. 

Mrs. Sutherland wrote her brother explaining still further, Wallace hadbeen ill, he was not at all well now. He had been really quiteindisposed all Spring, and it was cruel to blame the dear boy for notstudying. 

But Uncle William seemed to enjoy being cruel. He wrote that he haddone his best to give her son an education, but it appeared that itcouldn't be done, and he felt it was time to stop wasting money. So hewas sending Wallace home to her to see what she could make of him. Perhaps she could find something for him to do in Orchard Glen thatwould not tax his mentality as the University seemed to have done. 

Poor Mrs. Sutherland was overcome with grief. Dr. McGarry was too, andhe stormed and scolded Wallace and his sister by turns, and ended up bydeclaring that William was getting to be nothing but a skinflint andthat he might give the boy another chance. 

Wallace alone seemed undisturbed. He felt sure that Uncle William'sbilious attack, as he termed his difference with his patron, would passoff, and that he would be ready to forgive him in October. So hesettled himself in the old home with a tremendous display of books anda fine appearance of studiousness, and declared he would work so hardthat when the Autumn term opened he would pass any examination theycould possibly set before him. 

His mother and uncle caught his optimism and were both soon ready toagree that all would be well. So Wallace spent the Summer very happilyin Orchard Glen, lying in the hammock under the trees, always with hisbooks, or driving about the country in the Doctor's car. 

But poor Mrs. Sutherland had little enjoyment in his home-coming. Shewas really a very neighbourly soul, in spite of a few strange ideasabout social usages, and she was now condemned to the difficult task ofkeeping Wallace at his studies, and away from the young life about him, and that in a village where the girls were as thick as the thistlesalong the roadside. 

First there was that pretty young simpleton at the corner store, whogiggled all the time, and made it dangerous for Wallace even to go forthe mail. Then there was that family at Browns up on the hill withgirls of all ages. And there were those Lindsays, for though the mostdangerous one was married and out of the way, and another one said tobe engaged, there was still another, very attractive and quite toosmart. And there was that bold, black-eyed daughter of the blacksmith, who lived next door. She was too old for Wallace, but those maturegirls were the most to be feared. And indeed, there was no safetywhatever way you turned. 

His mother had hoped for some relaxation when Wallace decided to spendan hour or so each morning under Mr. Sinclair's tutoring, but no soonerhad this haven been provided, than the minister's daughter, a finelooking, high-spirited girl, came home for her holidays, from herschool teaching. 

So Mrs. Sutherland remained a prisoner in her own home, on guard overher son. And the girls of the village did all in their power to makeher task most difficult. 

And though Christina would have disdained to take any part in theirschemes to meet Wallace, she managed to see her True Knight quite oftenand the Summer was a very happy one. 

She always received a nod and a bright smile from him on Sundays, andsometimes on week days when she went down into the village. And he wasalways as gay and as debonair and handsome as anybody could wish aDream Knight to be. 

Sandy came home full of joyous relief that at last Christina was to getaway out into the world. The trip to the West was not as good ascollege, of course, but Allister would give her a chance for aneducation yet, when this pinched time that he was passing through wasover. 

"I hate the thought of your going away, " Sandy grumbled. "Girls oughtto get married, " he added, struggling confusedly with this firstexperience with femininism. Mary's career and Ellen's prospects werethe only right and proper sphere for a girl. 

Privately Christina thought so, too. 

"But I can't get anybody to marry me, " she said gaily. "So what am Ito do? There's nobody in Orchard Glen wants me except"--she paused, perhaps she was wrong after all about Gavin's caring for her--"exceptMarmaduke, " she added on second thought. 

"And I'll bet if any fellow in Orchard Glen asked you to marry himyou'd turn up your nose at him, " complained Sandy. "My, but girls arequeer. Now, if that Wallace Sutherland was to come along I supposeyou'd be like the rest and be as sweet as honey to him, and youwouldn't look at a fellow like Gavin Grant. And I wouldn't give Gavinfor a wagon load of Wallace Sutherlands. "

Christina's cheeks grew crimson. Sandy had drawn a bow at a venture, but had hit right in the centre of the mark. But she respondedgallantly. 

"Neither would I. I wouldn't know what to do with a wagon load of him. But one would be very nice--loaded on an auto, " she added slyly. 

Sandy sniffed; but he could not dispute long with Christina overanything. They had grand times together, as June came in and they fellinto their old habit of sitting in the evenings on the pump platform. There were long confidential talks there, under the apple boughs, too. Sandy's mind, under Neil's careful guardianship, was turning more andmore towards the ministry as his life-work. And every day Christinagrew more thankful that she had not been the means of holding him back. 

She had not yet confessed to Grandpa that his electric light was to beswitched off before the end of the summer. Christina had not found anoccasion when she could summon sufficient courage to break the news tohim. It would be time enough when she had to tell him. So he sang hisevening hymn and read his morning psalms of thanksgiving undisturbed. 

And to make things even better for Christina Mary came home in June. Hugh McGillivray had gone to Toronto on business and Mary came back tothe old farm for a visit during his absence. Mary looked morebeautiful than ever, in her new town-made clothes, and Christina wasvery proud of her as they went about the village together. 

The practice for the Presbyterian Church's first of July picnic was infull swing, and as there were no Methodists helping this year, thePresbyterians had to do double duty. Mary went to practise with hersisters and had a grand reunion with all the girls. 

"Christine, where's Bruce to-night?" she asked, as they came up thehill on the way home together, with Ellen walking ahead beside AnnieMcKenzie. 

"Bruce? I don't know, " confessed Christina. "Oh, he hasn't come topractise much since he came back from Toronto. "

"No, and it's my opinion he hasn't been going to anything else, "declared Mary. "Do you know that he has been here only once since Icame home?"

Christina listened in dismay. She had been so absorbed in her joyouspreparations for going West that she had actually not noticed what wasquite apparent to Mary. 

"Maybe he and Ellen have had a lover's quarrel, " she whisperedhopefully. 

"Nothing of the sort, " scoffed Mary. "Can you imagine any onequarrelling with Ellen or Bruce either--and as for their quarrellingbetween themselves!"

Christina was forced to admit that was extremely unlikely. And as shewatched Ellen she could not but be convinced that there was somethingwoefully wrong between her and Bruce. 

"You couldn't think that he doesn't care for Ellen any more, couldyou?" faltered Christina as she and Mary held a second conference. 

"Wouldn't it be awful, " cried Mary aghast. "I can't remember whenBruce wasn't in love with Ellen and was coming here to see her. Itwould be an insult to the whole family!" she cried hotly. 

Christina was not concerned about the family honour, but she was verymuch disturbed over Ellen. And then it was a heartbreaking thing tolose Bruce, too. He had always seemed like a brother, and it wasalmost as bad as if Neil or Sandy should become estranged. 

Poor Ellen was striving hard to hide her hurt, and made heroic effortsto explain Bruce's changed manners. He was tired with all theunaccustomed work of the farm, he had to study at nights and that kepthim at home. She was always ready with an excuse for his unaccustomedabsence. 

"Where's Bruce, Ellie?" asked her mother one Sunday evening when theusual crowd strolled in after the Methodist service. 

"He's back at the gate with the boys, Mother, " said Ellen with affectedcarelessness. "He'll likely be in later. "

Bruce did come in later with John, but he did not stay late and wenthome when Annie and Katie left. 

Of course Joanna did not fail to notice the change in Bruce and remarkupon it. There was a little crowd at the Lindsays one evening to seeMary, when the McKenzie contingent entered without him. 

"Where's your family doctor, Ellen?" Joanna inquired. "You'll have tolook after your fellow better than you're doing!"

Ellen looked at her with quiet dignity, but her cheeks grew crimson. 

"It's very good of you to be so interested in him, Joanna, " she said. 

"Course I'm interested in all my neighbours. Here's the whole McKenzieoutfit, every one of them, but your particular one. Annie, you keepBruce tied up as close as Ma Sutherland does her little boy. What haveyou done with him?"

Annie McKenzie was Ellen's close friend. She looked embarrassed. 

"He's tired. He's been working in the field all day and now he's gotstudying to do at night, " she declared hurriedly. 

"My! If you let him study that hard he ought to be a doctor about nextChristmas! Maybe he's hurrying up so's he can get married a year ortwo sooner!"

Ellen's face grew pale, but Mary was there. Mary Lindsay had alwaysbeen a match for Joanna in a quiet elusive way, and now from thevantage ground of a rather brilliant marriage Mary McGillivray wasstill more to be feared. 

"Oh, Joanna, " she said suavely, "a long piece of your hair is hangingdown at the back. There's a looking-glass on the wall over there whereTrooper's standing. Would you like to go and fix it?"

Joanna flounced away into the bed-room completely routed. There wassomething subtle about Mary that one could not combat. 

Bruce dropped in late at the next practice that was held in the church. He sat in the back seat and talked with the other boys duringintermission, but his very presence seemed to make Ellen happy. Shebecame radiant, and chatted and laughed gaily with the other girls, looking handsomer than she had for many a day. 

When they started home, Christina, with an eye for Gavin, keptcarefully in the crowd. But Gavin had turned and gone away at oncewith the other boys who were unattached. And with the perversity of awoman's mind Christina felt a little hurt. She wondered why he seemedto have stopped trying for her favour. Was it because he wasdiscouraged, or because he did not care? She was so far fromunderstanding Gavin that she did not guess that his pride was keepinghim aloof. 

Annie McKenzie and Ellen were ahead, and Christina found herselfwalking beside Bruce. This was not unusual, for Bruce had always beenso much one of the family that he just as often walked with her or oneof the boys as with Ellen. She was so happy that she was impelled toexpress her joy. 

"It's so nice to see you at practice, Bruce, " she said. "It's lonesomehere when all the boys are away. "

"Yes, it's good to be home again, " said Bruce without enthusiasm. "ButI think I've got the city fever rather badly. I just couldn't settledown in Orchard Glen, now that I've been away. "

Christina sympathised. "I fancy I'll feel like that when I go away, "she ventured. 

"Yes, you will, " he declared. "When you get away you realise how smalland narrow everything in your life has been. It changes a personcompletely. Nothing seems the same. " He spoke in tones of depression. He was not at all the old Bruce who had been always kind and cheery, and almost as nice as John. 

Christina experienced a feeling of dismay. "Nothing seems the same, "weighed heavily upon her heart. 

He came in for the evening lunch the Lindsay kitchen always furnished, but he went away when the rest left, and did not have a word with Ellenalone. 

"What were you and Bruce talking about so seriously?" asked Ellen withforced lightness, as she and Christina put away the remains of thefeast in the cellar. 

"Oh, nothing much, " said Christina confused. "About Toronto mostly. He likes it awfully well there, " and she hurried away into Grandpa'sroom to take her last look at him and see that he was comfortable, andavoided further questioning. 

"Tell me all about him when you write next, " Mary said when Hugh cameas radiant and eager as on her wedding day to take her home. 

Christina promised. "It wouldn't be so bad if everybody wasn't sointerested, " she said with a sigh. "It's Joanna; that's the worst partof it. "

"This is such a narrow gossipy little place, " complained the lady fromthe metropolis. "I'll be glad when you get away out West withAllister, Christine. "

"But Ellen can't get away from it, " said Christina, "and mother's beenhere nearly all her life and she's not narrow nor gossipy. " ForChristina was not quite so sure now that she really wanted to get away. Ellen's undeniable trouble was taking away much of the joy of hersister's good fortune. 

When the time came to write Mary, the news of Bruce was notencouraging. He came to the house very seldom, was almost melancholyand not at all his old self, and every one in the family noticed thechange. Even Uncle Neil asked what was the matter between Ellen andBruce, and he carefully avoided singing the "Standard on the Braes o'Mar" in the evening, knowing that there would be no McKenzie's mancoming over the hills as in the old joyous days. 

And so June slipped away and Allister wrote that he would come aboutthe middle of July and for Christina to be ready. She felt that shecould no longer put off the evil day of telling Grandpa and one nightas she helped him to bed resolved to prepare him. 

"I've got something to tell you, " she shouted as she gave him his hymnbook and put back the curtain. "But there isn't time to-night. I'lltell you to-morrow. "

"Eh, eh, that'll be fine, " said Grandpa, who was always looking forwardto good things. "Don't forget about it. " And after she left, sheheard him say, "Eh, eh, but it's a fine bit lassie. Eh, there's not such another--notsuch another!"

Christina felt a big lump choking her as she went upstairs to dress forpractice. 

Bruce appeared at practice again, and as the boys and girls paired offto go home, Christina noticed with great joy that he took his old placeat Ellen's side and they walked away together. 

Sandy had gone off with Margaret Sinclair again, and Christina joinedherself to Burke Wright and Mitty, and later to Mrs. Johnnie Dunn. TheWoman was still hot on the scent of the valentines and her remarks onthe subject were highly amusing. They passed Ellen and Bruce, andChristina noticed joyfully that they were walking very slowly and werein deep conversation. It was still more encouraging, as she slippedinto the house alone, to see that they were standing at the gate verymuch absorbed. 

Her mother was moving about the kitchen. No matter how late herchildren were in getting home she always lingered till all were safelyin the house. 

"Bruce and Ellen are hanging over the gate, " whispered Christinaexcitedly. "They've taken about half an hour getting home. "

"They'll be all right, then?" whispered her mother eagerly. 

"Oh, yes, " cried Christina joyfully. "I'll tell you all about it inthe morning. You go away to bed now, mother, and I'll set the bread. "

Her mother went slowly to her room, and Christina bustled about thekitchen. She had got out the bowl and the flour, when she heardEllen's step on the old creaking veranda floor. The door opened andChristina turned with a word of gay raillery, but stopped suddenly. Ellen stood in the doorway looking white and dazed, as though some onehad given her a blow. 

"Ellen!" cried Christina aghast. "What is the matter? Are you sick?"Her sister did not seem to hear. She did not answer, but passed thedoor and went on upstairs, slowly and stumbling, as though she wereGrandpa's age!

Sandy came in from the woodshed door to find Christina standingovercome in the middle of the kitchen. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Did you see a ghost?"

"Oh, Sandy, " Christina was full of dismay, "something is wrong withEllen and Bruce. Something dreadful. "

Sandy was deeply concerned as he listened. This was no mere girl'slove affair like the sort Mary would have had. Bruce and Ellen hadalways been lovers. It was like hearing that John had broken with thefamily. 

"Ellen just can't stand it here any longer, " Christina burst out atlast. "The girls are all talking about her, and Joanna is justdreadful; and, oh, Sandy, do you think I ought to let her go Westinstead of me?"

"Now, you look here!" cried Sandy violently, "don't you go talking likethat any more. If there's anybody has to stay home I will. You justcan't be the one that's always left. Cheer up. Wait till you askEllen what's up. Maybe it's not so bad, after all!"

It was just as bad as it could be, Christina felt sure, as she layawake in the night listening to Ellen's slow deep sobs, not daring toask the cause. The Lindsay girls were reticent, especially aboutaffairs of the heart, and Christina hesitated to intrude. It was nottill they were alone in the spring house with the churning the nextmorning, that the opening to the subject came and Ellen herself madeit. She had gone about her work, pale and spiritless all morning, hermother's kindly eyes watching her with anxiety. 

"Christine, " Ellen said, when the picnic was broached, "I wish you'dtell Mrs. Johnnie Dunn you'll take my place on the tea committee, willyou? I don't want to go. "

"Of course I will, " said Christina. "But don't you want to go to thepicnic?"

Ellen turned her back and busied herself with something in the far endof the dim little cellar. "I don't want to ever go to a picnic again, as long as I live, " she said quietly. 

"Ellen!" cried Christina in dismay, "what is it? Have you andBruce--what's the matter? Did you quarrel?"

"No, it would be better if we had. " Ellen seemed to be relieved at thepossibility of unburdening her heart. "He's just got tired ofme--that's all. "

She said it with a quiet bitterness that was far more sorrowful than arush of tears. Christina felt her anger rise with her grief. 

"Why, I never heard of anything so abominable--" she commencedstormily, but her sister stopped her. 

"No, I won't listen to anything against him. Bruce is just as good--"she stopped overcome for a moment. "It isn't his fault, " she went on, regaining her self-control. "He feels awful about it. He didn't wantto tell me, but I made him, last night. I knew there was something, ever since last Christmas. And it's been getting worse all summer andI couldn't stand it any longer. He's changed since he went away. Andhe, --I've never been anywhere outside of Orchard Glen, and he's seenthe difference. He's gone ahead of me, that's all and he couldn't helpit. "

She finished in a whisper, and stood looking before her in a kind ofdazed despair. "I don't know, "--she faltered, --"I don't seem to knowhow to start over again, " she said with an air of bewilderment. 

"Oh, Ellen!" cried Christina in a sudden rush of tenderness and pitythat had to have an outlet, "wouldn't you like to go away for a while, till--right now, and do something and--and catch up?"

A light flashed up for a moment in Ellen's eyes, but faded immediately. "How could I?" she cried, "and leave them here alone--I might as wellthink of going to the moon. "

"But you can. Yes, you must, right away. Allister would just as soonhave you go out there as me. He said so, but he didn't think youwould, and you'll go and I'll stay at home. It will only be for alittle while, and you can see everything, and it'll just be grand!--"her eyes were shining, her cheeks pink with excitement. 

"Christine!" Ellen looked at the little sister, her eyes filled withunspeakable gratitude. "Oh, it wouldn't be right to let you--but if Ionly could--just for a little while, till he goes away, I might stand--"

She sank down upon a little low bench and buried her face in her apron. "It seems too good to be true, " she sobbed. 

Christina had a sudden vivid remembrance of a time when she dropped theheavy trap door of the cellar in a foolish prank and barely escapedgiving Ellen a terrible blow on the head. And this time she might havekilled her if she had been careless enough to forsake her in the day ofher despair!

CHAPTER VIII

THE WAR DRUM

"And what would the grand news be that you promised to tell me?" askedGrandpa, that evening, when bed-time came and Christina was getting thelittle hymn-book ready. 

"The news?" she hesitated, nonplussed. Then she went close and shoutedinto his ear, "Allister is going to take Ellen back to Prairie Parkwhen he comes home, and perhaps she will stay with him all next winter. "

And she ran away before he could ask her to go into any of the details. But she could not help hearing him as he talked it over with himself. And the result of his conversation was that though he did not like tosee any one of the family leave, and especially one of his girls, hewas reconciled. 

"Aye, it'll be grand for Ellie, she's not been away, the bit lass, fora long time. But it's a grand thing he didn't take away my own lass. Eh, ah'm a selfish old body, but ah could ill spare her. "

And once more Christina was rather surprised that she was notdesperately disappointed. It was hard to be very sad in the face ofGrandpa's perfect contentment and Ellen's overwhelming relief. 

And so once more Christina turned her feet resolutely from the road tosuccess to walk in the commonplace paths of field and farmyard andhome. Allister came and took Ellen away with him in July. He wasdisappointed at Christina's failure to accompany him, but promised herthe long deferred college course would be hers yet. He was puttingthrough a new deal and if all went well he might be a millionaire oneday. 

"Now old Lady Stick-in-the-mud, " he shouted jovially, as he badeChristina good-bye, "I see I can't pull you out of this place with astumping machine just yet. But I'll call around for you again in aboutfive years or so, and perhaps you'll be ready then. "

Christina tried to laugh and take it all in good part, but it washarder to be misunderstood than it was to give up her chance to Ellen. But her sister did not misunderstand her. "I'll come home soon and dothe work and let you have your turn, Christine, " she whisperedtremulously, as she said good-bye. "And oh, oh, Christine, I can'tever, ever tell you how good you've been to me!"

That was Christina's reward and it helped her in the days thatfollowed. For they were not easy days. The heavy summer work was on, and Ellen's ready hands had taken more than half the tasks. Her mothermissed Ellen sorely and was able to do less every day though she triedin every way to help. 

And then John went down to the corner and hired Mitty to come up threedays a week and do the heavy work, the washing and cleaning, and otherthings on days when the churning and baking took all Christina's time. 

Poor Mitty was delighted to come. Burke had gone to work in Algonquinand came home only on week ends. When he was away Granny was very hardto manage, and it was like being on a holiday to go up to the Lindsays'and know you would not get scolded for a whole long day. 

"'Ere I am again, for a 'ole day's fun, " she would exclaim, her faceall radiant, and a whole day's fun it certainly was, for Mitty was thegayest and brightest little soul in the world, and, as Mrs. Sutherlandsaid, certainly did not know her place. Granny complained bitterly tothe neighbours, but they all agreed that it was on the whole asbeneficial to her as to Mitty, for she went about and looked afterherself and was quite contented when there was no one there to see thatshe was not suffering. 

Ellen wrote brave letters that breathed the relief she felt at gettingaway. The prairies were wonderful, and her days were so full she hadno time to think. She was staying with the people that workedAllister's farm and they were so kind and good. Allister had given hera horse and she was going to learn to ride, only all the girls out hererode astride and it seemed so dreadful she did not think she could doit. Neil's Mission Field was only a half-day's journey away by rail, and she and Allister were going to see him and hear him preach. 

Sandy lauded Christina as he read Ellen's letters, telling her againand again that there was no one like her and that she was just acorker, and that was all about it. And Christina glowed with happinessunder his praise and grew fairly radiant over Ellen's cheerfulness. 

"I'm not a bit more settled down than I ever was, remember, " she warnedSandy. "You'll see I'll get away sometime yet, even if I have to getmarried to do it. "

"Well, I hope you will, " said Sandy gloomily. "Don't settle down andbe an old maid whatever you do. You're just the sort to do it. "

"Why?" gasped Christina in alarm. She wondered if Sandy thought shewas too plain ever to have a suitor. 

"Because you've always stayed around home doing the jobs that nobodyelse wanted to do, " declared Sandy. 

Christina gave a relieved laugh. "Something will happen some day, " shepromised. "Just see if it won't. "

She repeated the promise to herself many times as she went bravelyabout the kitchen and barnyard. 

"Something will happen some day!" But she often added, "But, oh, my, Ido wish it would hurry up and happen soon. "

And then something did happen; an event that vitally affected allChristina's future. Something happened which made it unnecessary forany one to go far afield for adventure, for it brought the busy worldof affairs, with its turmoil and sorrow and strife, right inside thegreen walls of Orchard Glen. Away on the other side of the world giantoppression suddenly arose to trample and slay, and freedom leaped upinto a death struggle, and her voice rang round the world, calling onher sons to come to her aid. 

It was as peaceful a summer evening as could be, even in Orchard Glen, when the first faint echoes of that Call reached its quiet homes. Theday had been very hot, and evening had come with her cool mantle ofpurple and gold, dew-spangled, and had spread it over the valley. Downin the river pasture the boys were playing foot-ball, and a dull thudcame up the road like the distant boom of a cannon, could anything soincongruous come into the mind on such a peaceful evening? The storeveranda had but few loungers, for the day had been a heavy one on thefarms and was not yet over. The orchards grew pink and then purple inthe evening light, the murmur of the water from the dam came up fromthe mill. 

And right into the midst of this calm and peace came the first note ofthe Great Strife. To those who thought about it afterwards, it seemedfitting that the news should have been brought by that warlike lady, Mrs. Johnnie Dunn. She was returning from a second trip to town thatday, and though she liked to send her Ford whirling through the villageas a rebuke to idlers on the store veranda, this evening she slowed upand stopped with a grinding of brakes. 

"I say, Sam! Sam Holmes, " she cried excitedly, ignoring the crowd onthe steps, "I've got some news that'll help spunk up some o' these lazylumps that's clutterin' up your front door here. "

Trooper, who was one of the lumps, tried to efface himself behindMarmaduke, without success. The Woman was glaring right at him. 

"Well, well, now, Sarah, " said the peaceable Mr. Holmes, "what is it?Has anything gone wrong in town?"

"Gone wrong? Well I should rather say so! Something that'll make yousfolks buy another pound or so o' starch, when I tell you. "

"Milk gone down?" guessed Marmaduke innocently. The Woman transferredthe glare that belonged to her nephew upon his companions inwrong-doing. 

"It couldn't go any lower than it is, " she affirmed sternly, "but it'slikely to go up, yes, and everything else, now! No, sir, there's goin'to be a war, that's what there is. They're fightin' right this minuteover in Germany. The news about it was telegraphed up from Toronto toAlgonquin and everybody says England'll be in it, first thing. "

A small ripple of amusement broke over the still, smoky surface of thethe veranda. The Woman was always bringing home startling news andthis was only one of many wild rumours. 

"I knew somethin' dreadful would happen if you went to town againto-day, " muttered Trooper from his sanctuary behind the coal-oilbarrel. "No wonder there's a war. "

"Well, well, now, I declare, is that true, " exclaimed Mr. Holmes, comfortably. "There's always trouble in them Balkans. I supposeGermany has got to have her hand in it too. Them Balkans, now, " hecontinued with the splendid deliberation of one who was an authority oninternational affairs, "them Balkans, " he lit his pipe and gave acouple of puffs, "they're nothing but a hot-bed of dissension andintrigue. " And having settled Eastern Europe to every one'ssatisfaction, he threw away his match and smoked complacently. 

"This ain't no Balkan affair, let me tell you that, " cried The Woman, rather chagrined at the lack of excitement. "This is going to be aterrible war. It'll be a reg'lar Army Geddin, and after that the endof the world. Folks was a sayin' that in town to-day; it's prophesiedin the Bible; you can ask any of the ministers and they'll tell you. Here, Tom, come down here and crank up this machine o' mine, I can'thang round here no longer doin' nothin', war or no war. "

Very gladly Trooper sprang down and gave the crank a whirl that set thecar roaring away up the hill, speeded by a wave of his arms. Theveranda settled down after the disturbance to talk about the weatherand politics again. But Trooper was interested in the news his Aunthad brought. He had never been content on the little Ontario farmsince the free days when he rode the plains, and soldiering would be agrand job. 

"Wonder if England'll be into this?" he asked eagerly. 

"No danger, " answered Mr. Holmes, puffing authoritatively. "Englanddon't want to get into a war any more'n I do. And nobody'd dare to goto war with her, 'count of her navy. "

"There's always some rumour about Germany makin' a war, " said Old ToryBrown. "I don't remember the time that it ain't been talked about. "

"There'll never be any big kinda war no more, you may bank on that, "said the postmaster, seating himself on a nail keg. "Things is toomuch mixed up for that. Why, trade and commerce wouldn't stand it fortwo days. The banks would all go busted and business would stop. Andthe world has got to a place when business means more than anythingelse. So there'll not be much of a war. 'Course there will always betrouble in them Balkans, I suppose. "

Trooper looked distinctly disappointed. "The Woman's always getting upsome storm that never comes to anything, " he said aggrievedly. "Ithought she really meant it this time. Gosh, I wish there would be areal bang-up fight with guns shootin' everywhere! Wish the Stateswould come over here or something and try to take Canada. But I guessthere's no such luck. "

There were those who did not feel quite so secure as the Orchard Glenpostmaster. There was very terrible news coming from Europe soon, newsthat a people brought up with liberty in the very air they breathed, could not at first comprehend. There came fearful tales, onlyhalf-credited as yet, of an iron nation gone mad with the lust ofpower, and of a free race being trampled in blood and ruin. The cry ofBelgium was reaching to heaven, and a new spirit was beginning to stirin Canadian hearts, the spirit that takes no thought for trade orcommerce, and counts gain as refuse. The new spirit, which is as oldas the cry for freedom, was aroused, and all Canada was listening, breathless, for the Lion's roar, the sound that would tell that thatspirit had not perished from the heart of the British Nation. 

And then it came! That call that thundered round the world into everycorner of the Empire, setting the hearts of her youth, whether theybeat under palm or pine, aflame for the Great Cause; and at its sound. Freedom rose up once more from the blood-soaked soil of Flanders, andgave back, yet again, a challenge to the hordes of Tyranny. 

To Orchard Glen the first note of that call was a drum beat that camethrobbing over the hills one summer evening, a drum beat that startedin Old London. 

Christina had gone up the back lane with the cows in the evening, tosee if the berries were ripe in the Slash. 

The Back Hill was very silent and lovely in the evening. Far below herlay her home fields; she could see John and Sandy hauling in their lastload of alfalfa, with Jimmie perched on the top. She opened the barsinto the back pasture and the stately herd trooped in, according toprecedence. Cherry stepped back meekly until Plum walked ahead, forthe cows were all well bred and knew their place. And Plum's place wasalways at the head. She strolled in like some splendid duchess, hermeeker sisters dropping behind. Christina laughed as she put up thebars. She always called Plum Mrs. Sutherland. She wondered if Wallacewould be staying all Summer in Orchard Glen. She was thinking so muchabout him that she did not see some one coming up the opposite slopeuntil a tall figure suddenly appeared on the other side of the fence. "Good evening, Christine, " said Gavin Grant. 

"Good night, Gavin, " called Christina. She was always just a littlebit flustered in Gavin's presence. She was half afraid that he caredfor her and just a little bit afraid that he did not care at all. 

"How is your haying?" she asked pleasantly. 

"Fine. I finished to-day. And I was just looking if these oats wereready. If the rain holds off I'll cut them to-morrow. "

"Did Auntie Janet help you?" asked Christina slyly. 

Gavin's dark eyes twinkled. "No, she didn't, but I had to give in andget Hughie Reid's boys to help me, or she would have. I'm afraid Ican't manage her alone. "

Christina was wondering how many young men she knew on the farms aboutwould be so careful of three old women as Gavin was of his Aunts. Tilly Holmes said that Mrs. Sutherland waited upon Wallace hand andfoot. But then one could not believe half the gossip Tilly repeated. 

She pulled a plume of the flaming fire-weed, a bright monument to somesplendid forest monarch that had perished in the flames. 

"I like this flower, even if it is only a weed, " she said. Gavinsmiled sympathetically. 

"I always like weeds best, but I daren't tell my Aunties that, " he said. 

He was much more at his ease here up on the hills, and he looked veryfine too, with the sleeves rolled back from his strong brown arms, andhis bare head covered with thick wavy hair. If he wore the kind ofclothes that Wallace Sutherland wore, Christina could not help thinkinghe would be quite as handsome. 

"I like weeds, " he was saying, "though they do give a great deal oftrouble. This bind weed now. It is such a plague but I feel sorryevery time I destroy it. "

He pulled a long graceful branch with its exquisite pink blossoms andChristina put out her hand for it. And Gavin was emboldened to gathera little blossom of the blue jay and hand it to her shyly. He wantedto tell her that the fire-weed was like her cheeks and the blue jaylike her eyes, but he could not. He knew Christina's ambition, and hewas too proud to play the lover when he was not wanted. 

But he walked by her side, across the Slash, and Christina felt thatold sense of happy companionship in his presence. The berries werefairly falling off the branches in ripe luxuriance, and they filled thelittle pail she had brought in quite too short a time. Behind them thetop of Craig-Ellachie stretched up to catch the last light of thesetting sun. Her home fields spread out beneath; the dusk laying itsvelvet cloak softly over them. The air was so still, the sound of thehorses being driven to the water trough came up from the barnyard. 

And then there came across the rose-touched hills a new sound, the dullthrob of a drum. 

"What is that?" asked Christina. 

They stood side by side and listened, looking in the direction of thetown, where now the electric lights glowed against the sky. The soundcame from the great outside world like the pulse beat of another life, the life into which Christina was longing to plunge. 

"Maybe it's about the war, " said Gavin; he suddenly raised his head andhis eyes grew bright. "Perhaps it means that England is in it. "

"Oh, " Christina looked at him surprised. "It would be awful if the OldCountry got into it, " she exclaimed. "Surely they won't. "

"It would be worse if she did not, " said Gavin. "Think of Belgium. "

"But what if they sent a Canadian contingent. I wouldn't like anybodyI know to go to war. "

Gavin made no reply. Christina wished he would say he would like togo. They stood for a little listening to the drum. And the girl hadno slightest idea that to the young man the sound was as a bugle call. It was Gavin's reveille, and it summoned him across the hills to comeaway. But he knew he could not obey, and he stood silent saying noword of the tumult it raised in his heart. 

The next day the news that the drum had sent over the hills came toOrchard Glen. England was in the war and she would in all probabilitycall for a Canadian contingent. Indeed Algonquin had not waited toknow, but was going to offer one herself whether the rest of Canada wasloyal or not. And on the very day that Britain entered the Great War, this little obscure town, set far away north in a ring of forest andlake, was calling her sons to go over seas and help the Mother Land. And it was the sound of her drums that had penetrated to the hills ofOrchard Glen and had set Gavin Grant's heart throbbing in time to itsbeat. 

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn had gone into town that morning with her milk asusual, and on her return she went out to the hay field to see if hertwo underlings had been attending to business in her absence. Marthyand Trooper Tom were good friends and they were not working so hardthat they were unable to have a little friendly chat. The Woman boredown upon them. 

"Well, if ever there was a time when there should be no hangin' roundan' palaverin' that time is jist right now, " she declared. "What d'yethink's the latest?"

The two men looked at her, Marthy undisturbed, Trooper alert and eager. 

"England's into the war, that's what! Yes, sir, and Sam Holmes didn'tkeep her out of it neither. And they were enlistin' fellows inAlgonquin last night, an' they say that Burke Wright--For the love o'goodness, has the boy gone clean off his head?"

"Sufferin' Moses!" cried Marthy, standing with his fork suspended. 

For Trooper had turned his face to the heavens and uttered theear-splitting war whoop that he had learned on the prairies. He threwhis fork up into the air so that it turned a complete somersault, andcame down and stuck neatly in the coil of hay, gave another whoop, andwas off to the barn in wild leaps. 

The two stood staring after him. "He didn't get into a bees' nest didhe?" asked Marthy looking around in bewilderment. The Woman threw upher hands in sudden enlightment. 

"I'll bet--I'll bet he's off!" she gasped. "He's off to the war an'the hayin's hardly over, an' the harvest jist comin' on! If that don'tbeat----"

But Trooper gave not a thought to either haying or harvest. He was infrantic haste lest he be too late for that fortunate band of recruitsin Algonquin. What if they got off without him? What if the warshould end before he got away? He dashed into the stable and flung thesaddle upon his horse, fastening it with swift, feverish jerks, whilethe sympathetic animal watched him with eager eyes, quivering to beaway. 

"Hooray, Polly!" he shouted as he swung over her back, "Hooray forBerlin!"

He went thundering down the lane, roaring good-bye to the two, stillstanding, in the field, gazing open-mouthed. Then he went whirlingdown the road in a cloud of dust, waving his cap and shouting a joyousfarewell to everything and everybody along the way. 

Joanna was at her gate looking up the street to see which of the Martinchildren had carried off her watering can, and Marmaduke had stopped tomake love to her on his way home to dinner. They were standinglaughing and joking when the wild horseman came thundering down thehill. 

Trooper shot past them, yelling something that neither understood andbefore they could recover from their amazement he had stormed past andwas up over the hill with only the sharp rap of his horse's hoofs totell that it had not all been a vision. 

Joanna looked at Marmaduke in real concern. He stood for a momentstaring at the cloud of dust on the hill top, and then he suddenlyslapped his knee. 

"He's off to the war!" he shouted. "I bet Trooper's off to enlist. He's the very boy to do it. The Woman stopped here on her way home andsaid there was a Canadian Army to be raised and they were recruitin' inAlgonquin last night. Yes, sir, " he ended up heavily. "I just bet youthat's what he's up to. " He leaned against the fence and suddenlylooked old and weary. 

Joanna's handsome face had turned white. She turned and without a wordwalked into the house steady and erect. And it takes some courage andresolution to walk so when your lover has just gone shouting to thewars without so much as a good-bye wave of the hand, because of thevery joy of going!

The next day Mitty was due for a day of fun at the Lindsays but she didnot appear, and Christina ran down as soon as she could get away, apprehensive that Granny was really ill again. She found the tidylittle house in great disorder, with Mitty sitting on the edge ofGranny's bed, her face swollen with tears, while Granny sat up in bedrocking to and fro and bewailing her fate for a poor unfortunate buddywho should'a' died years agone. 

"What has happened?" cried Christina in dismay. "Has Granny----"

"B-b-Burke!" sobbed Mitty, "'E-e's a reservist. "

"A what?" cried Christina in alarm. She had some vague idea that thesteady, hard working Burke must have joined some sort of disreputablegang. 

"A--a reservist, " repeated Mitty between her sobs. "An' they've sentfor 'im an' 'e's goin' to the war. An' me an' Granny'll be left allalone!"

"Do you mean he belongs to the army?" asked Christina bewildered bythis strange new thing which had come into their peaceful lives. 

Mitty nodded. "Burke was always a grite feller for the solderin', an''e joined wen 'e was only a bit o' a lad. But 'e never feared after 'ecome out 'ere as anybody would ever send for 'im. An' now 'e'll go tothe wars an be shot down an' we'll be left without 'im. "

This was really a terrible calamity, something so big one feared toface it, and Christina could only sit and hold Mitty's hand. She wassoon reinforced by the neighbours, many of whom had heard the sad newsearlier, and had been in to console them. Dr. McGarry had alreadycalled twice to see Granny, though he had not been sent for, and he hadleft her some new powders. Mrs. Sutherland had brought over a littlebook of poems on Strength in Adversity. Tilly Holmes had brought adozen oranges from the store, and Mrs. Sinclair came in while Christinawas there with a bowl of soup. 

Christina, mindful of her many duties at home, went back soon and senther mother down, for Mrs. Lindsay was a wonder at bringing comfort andcheer. 

Mrs. Holmes was there, having come over to supplement the dozen orangeswith a half-dozen bananas. Joanna had come over early in the morningand carried off Mitty's ironing and was just returning with the basketfilled with beautifully ironed clothes. Joanna hardly ever rejoicedwith them that did rejoice, being rather of the opinion that theyrequired a little wholesome adversity to temper their glee; but herheart was very warm towards those who were in sorrow. And though shehad never taken much interest in Mitty's happiness, and had said manysarcastic things when Burke married her, still she was all sympathywith her in the day of her trial. 

"Now, just let's cheer up and don't worry about it at all, " sheexclaimed bustling about with an air that was a real tonic. "Mitty, you just shut up your crying right now, and come and help me put awaythese clothes, or you'll have to send Burke away in his night-shirt. He'll never get to the war anyway. The British Navy'll have Germanychased out of Europe long before he'll get there and he'll jist have afree trip to the Old Country and a chance to see all his old friendsand visit his mother. Why, you ought to be glad!"

"Now that's jist right, Mitty, " declared Mrs. Holmes cheeringly. "Pasays the war can't last any time. Business can't stand it, and thereain't so much to worry about after all. "

Mrs. Lindsay came in with a cup of tea and cream for Granny, and theold lady was much refreshed and sat up and scolded Mitty well forcrying so much. And Mitty pulled herself together and began to feelthat perhaps life could go on even if Burke were away for a time. Granny's scolding did her more good than all the neighbours' sympathy. It was the atmosphere of normal times, and set her back into the sanityof every day surroundings. 

And Mrs. Lindsay made a cup of tea for everybody and they all sataround Granny's bed and sewed for Burke and mended everything andtalked about the war in familiar terms, feeling that it had really comeright home to them, and that Orchard Glen, with Trooper and Burke asrepresentatives, had no small part to play. 

They talked about Belgium and Austria and Turkey just as though theywere Dalton, Silver Creek and Algonquin. It made them feel quite grandand important and gave something of a thrill as they spoke familiarlyof those places and at the same time helped to get Burke Wright'sclothes ready to go away and fight the Germans. 

"And how was it you and Joanna let Trooper go?" asked Mrs. Holmes ofMrs. Johnnie Dunn who had dropped in on her way from town, whither shehad followed her impetuous warrior. 

"He didn't wait to ask neither of us, I guess, " said The Woman. "Tomain't the fellow to ask anybody's leave when there's any fightin' todo. " It appeared that though she would have died rather than admit it, Mrs. Johnnie Dunn was secretly proud of the way Trooper had gone off tothe war, and would hear no adverse comments upon his conduct. Joannamade no reply to the raillery. These days were harder upon Joanna thanupon Mitty, for she was denied even the luxury of grieving. ButTrooper had not gone. He was still in Algonquin and would perhaps behome yet. And though her pride was badly hurt, Joanna had not at allgiven up hope. 

CHAPTER IX

THE DREAM KNIGHT

Trooper came tearing back to Orchard Glen, the finest sight the placehad ever seen, in a smart uniform the colour of the dun fields he hadforsaken so gaily. The day he burst upon the village there was such acrowd around him at the post office that it looked like election timesand Dr. McGarry neglected his practice and followed him about. 

"Eh, if I was only ten years younger I'd be going with you, Trooper, "he cried enthusiastically. "Perhaps, I'll get there yet. There'll beplenty more going over before this business is done. None of us hasany idea what this war is going to be like, let me tell you. "

"It'll not last long, " declared Mr. Holmes, not so much from convictionas because that was the opinion he had given forth at first and he mustadhere to it. Besides he and the Doctor were opposed in politics andreligion, and they would naturally hardly agree about the war. 

Trooper continued to be the centre of attraction for the few days hespent at home before he was called to Valcartier. Though he was in thevillage for such a short time he found an opportunity to assistMarmaduke in a farewell piece of mischief, and though neither of themhad any notion of involving Christina in their prank, she, quiteaccidentally, became one of the most interested parties. 

The two village mischief-makers had long been hatching a plot to getWallace Sutherland away from his mother and off with the girls. Trooper had promised the first one who would capture him and take himhome with her to supper before he left, the biggest box of chocolateshe could buy in Algonquin. 

Though Wallace Sutherland had been living quietly in Orchard Glen allsummer, his prospects were much better than they had been on his returnhome. 

When Uncle William was in his most adverse mood, he had written acaustic letter hinting that he had grave doubts concerning Wallace'sill health interfering with his examinations. And just that very week, a kindly fate intervened, and Wallace became really ill. Dr. McGarrywaited on him hand and foot, giving him every care possible, and at thesame time declaring that it was nothing but too much to eat and toolittle to do that ailed the boy. 

When Uncle William heard, however, he really repented of his hardheart; not very humbly, for that was not Uncle William's way, but quitesubstantially, nevertheless. He did not believe in agreeing with hisadversary too quickly, so he wrote to his brother instead of to hisnephew. He admitted that he might possibly have been too hasty withthe young rascal, and he would give him one more chance, and only one. He might come back to the University at Christmas, and if he could takethe supplemental examination that would be set for him, then, he couldgo on to the end of his course. Uncle William did not think it wouldbe wise to let him return this coming Autumn, he ought to be kept inexile for a little while longer. And they would have to see that hestudied; make him sweat a bit over his failures and a few months up inthat backwoods concession where Peter lived would be beneficial, itmight induce meditation; there must be lots of quiet lying around loosein that forsaken region. And above all things they must try to knockit into his head that this was absolutely his last chance. 

Uncle William McGarry was one of those Canadians who, having made moneyin the great United States, was convinced that there was nothing goodin Canada, since he had always been rather poor there. His attitudealways nettled the Doctor who was a warm Britisher, and when heanswered the letter there was more about the young men who wereresponding to the call of the Empire from this same back concession, than there was about the subject in hand. 

Nevertheless Wallace's prophecy had come true. Uncle Will hadrecovered from his bilious attack. His convalescence took ratherlonger than the young optimist had expected, but as his recovery seemedsure, there was nothing more to worry about except the interveningstudies. He went at his lessons with a right good will, and thensomething happened that disturbed the even course of his life. Andthat was the prank that Trooper and Marmaduke played before the formerwent to the war. 

Christina had been to town. She had gone alone, on an errand for John, because Sandy and Jimmie were both very busy in the harvest fields. Itwas a very warm, dusty day and she let Dolly walk leisurely on thehomeward road. When she came to the village she stopped at the postoffice for the mail. 

She would not have confessed for the sake of a college course that shewas wondering if there was any possibility of meeting WallaceSutherland there. Christina could not have stooped to the littlesubterfuges the other girls practiced to waylay him at the corner, butnone the less she could not help wishing that she might encounter himin some way that would attract his attention. He was always sopleasant when she met him, but he raised his hat to her and said, "Goodafternoon, Miss Christine, " in exactly the way he spoke to Tilly orBell Brown or Maggie Blair. 

Marmaduke was sitting on the store veranda as she came up, and Trooperwas leaning against the door-post, very smart and handsome in hisuniform with his buttons and his spurs all aglitter. Bell Brown andMaggie Blair were there as usual, and as Mrs. Holmes was not in thestore there was a great deal of hilarity. 

Marmaduke, in his role of the village Lover, had been courting each ofthe girls in turn and immediately transferred his affections the momentChristina appeared. 

"Hello, Christine!" he cried, "you don't get down here as often asthese other girls do; and here I've been spendin' days jist waitin' fora sight of you. I've been jist that lonesome for you, --will you thinkjust the same of me if I go to the war?"

"I'm sure even the war couldn't make me change my opinion of you, Duke, " she answered with twinkling eyes. "Oh, Trooper!" she drew along breath of admiration, "and you're really and truly going to thewar!"

"You bet! Goin' in cavalry too, so I can make a swift get-away whenthe Germans take after me!"

"I'm thinkin' of goin' to the war myself, " said Marmaduke, who wastrying to cover up his real grief under an unusually frivolousexterior. "I might as well go and get killed if none o' yous girls 'lllook at me. Honest now, Christine, what would you take and go westwith me next Spring? Now that Trooper is leavin' I'm not goin' to hanground here any longer, " he added with a touch of real seriousness. 

"Well, I suppose I'd have to take my trunk, first of all, " saidChristina, "and Grandpa and Mother--I couldn't leave them. "

"Pshaw, " giggled Tilly, "he was askin' me that very same thing beforeyous girls came in, and I told him I'd take a gun so's I could shootmyself when we got there. No letters for your folks to-day, Christine, but your fellow's letter don't come till to-morrow anyhow, " she addedwith a giggle at her joke. 

"Oh, say girls, " whispered Bell Brown, "look who's comin'!"

Wallace Sutherland was swinging down the street and came up the verandasteps in two graceful springs. 

"Hello, Tilly! Hello, young ladies!" he cried in the free gay mannerthat was the hope of the girls and the despair of his mother. He madea profound bow to Marmaduke. "And how is His Grace the Dook to-day?Hello, Trooper! Oh, say, don't I wish I were going with you!"

Marmaduke gave him a poke with his peg leg. Like every one else inOrchard Glen he liked Wallace. 

"And how is Lord Sutherland?" he asked in return, "I hear you'regettin' brain fag studyin' the latest novels. "

Wallace did not deign to notice this. "Miss Tilly, " he exclaimed, "I'msure you've some letters for me away back there, now haven't you?"

Tilly flew to the little wicket and came tripping back with her handsfull, her cheeks pink, her curls bobbing. 

"Just one for the Doctor, and one for your mother, and only papers foryou, " she cried apologetically. 

He leaned over the counter, "Come now, " he said coaxingly, "are youquite sure you haven't hidden mine away somewhere?"

"She's forgotten to write to you, I guess she's got another fellow, "giggled Tilly. 

Christina turned towards the door. She wished with all her might thatshe could talk and joke with him as Tilly did, but even if she couldthere was no opportunity. He did not seem to notice she was there. 

"Come along, girls, " she said to Maggie and Bell, "I'm going home andyou can drive up the hill with me if you like. "

Marmaduke, who had been in a hurried whispered conference with the twogirls, rose and hobbled after them, the light of a great inspirationdancing in his eyes. 

Christina climbed into her old buggy as Wallace came out on the verandafollowed closely by Tilly. 

"Look here, Christine, " cried Marmaduke, winking solemnly at her, "you're goin' to get your neck broke one o' these days, drivin' thatmare, with the road full o' cars. What does John mean lettin' you?"

"Dolly!" cried Christina in amazement, "why she wouldn't--" she caughta frantic warning wink from Trooper's dancing eyes and paused. If theboys were playing some prank on Maggie and Bell it would be too bad ofher to spoil it. 

"She's dangerous, Christine, " put in Trooper, "I've seen her actin'like a wild cat on the road. There was a girl killed the other dayover in Grey County. Horse took fright at a Ford and ran away andbusted everything!"

"Mercy, me!" cried Bell Brown, who had her foot on the buggy step andnow jumped back. "I wonder if there'll be any cars coming along beforewe get home?"

"There's a big car full o' town folks visitin' up at McKenzies due tobe along here any min'it, " cried Marmaduke nervously. "You better stayhere till it passes, Christine. "

"Well, " said Christina, still doubtful of her part in the play, "ifyou're scared to come with me girls, you needn't, but I can't wait--"

"Look here, Trooper, " cried Duke, "hop in there and drive them kidshome. That car at McKenzies looks like a thrashin' machine an' thatmare'll go clean crazy. Here Christine, here's Trooper, he'll go withyou. "

"Oh, do come, Trooper, " cried Maggie Blair tremulously, "Christine's areckless driver and Dolly's dreadful with cars. "

Christina sat looking on at the little comedy, laughing and wonderingwhat its outcome was to be. 

Just then Mrs. Johnnie Dunn came honking home from town and stormedpast the store. Dolly would not have so much as switched her tail andthe little play all arranged for Wallace Sutherland would have beenspoiled had Trooper not come to its rescue. He gave a heroic leap tothe mare's head, clutching her bridle and shouting:

"Whoa, Dolly, whoa now! Whoa there!" Marmaduke joined him, calling onChristina to hold tight. The mild Dolly was really startled and jerkedup her head and pranced about in a very realistic manner indeed, and ittook some patting and coaxing to get her quieted. 

"Now, look at that, Christine!" cried Tilly, who was not in the play, and had screamed quite spontaneously. 

"Well, " cried Bell, coming forward nobly with her part, "that settlesit for me. Trooper won't come, he's scared Joanna'll see him, so I'mgoing to walk. You'll have to risk it yourself, Christine. "

"Aw, come along and drive us home, Trooper, " cried Maggie. "I'm justtoo tired to walk up the hill. "

"Say, I would now, but I can't leave here, girls. I was to meetCaptain Morris here at five. " He turned as if with a suddeninspiration. "Here, now. Here's Mr. Sutherland. Why don't you askhim to drive you? He's the very fellow for the job. Can't you drivethese girls up the hill, Wallace? Here they are all scared to death, man. "

"The very job for me!" cried Wallace gallantly. "I'll drive you acrossCanada if you'll let me, Miss Christine. Hop in girls. Is there roomfor us all?"

For a moment Christina hesitated, a moment of weakness. She hadsuddenly seen through the joke. It was a plan to get Wallace to driveoff with the girls right under his mother's nose. She felt too deeplyon the subject to take part in any such foolish jest. But she couldnot very well stop the impetuous young man who had scrambled into thebuggy, and was now seated between her and Bell, while Maggie placedherself upon Bell's knee. And while she hesitated he caught up thelines with a gay flourish. 

"Now, we'll all likely be killed, " he cried. "But what's thedifference so long as we die happy!" And he gave Dolly a terrible lashwith the whip and shouted, "Get along there, you. "

Now in all Dolly's quiet well-ordered life she had never felt anythingbut the gentlest encouragement from a whip, neither had anything in hermemory ever pulled on her mouth in this dreadful manner. There wasboth terror and indignation in the leap she gave into the air, and theignorant driver, taken quite unaware, pulled on one line so that thebuggy was almost overturned. Then away they went at a gallop up thestreet, first on the edge of one ditch, then on the edge of the other, while the two plotters left on the veranda, ready to fall over withlaughter, suddenly became sober as they saw a chance of their jokeending in a catastrophe. 

There was no feigning in Bell's terror now. She had turned pale, andwas crying out, "Oh, Christine, take the lines, take the lines!"

But Christina needed no bidding. Already she had caught the reins inher strong brown hands, shoving the young man's aside sharply. 

"You, you idiot!" was what she said, though she did not know it untilafterwards. She was too angry to say more, too genuinely alarmed. With the firm familiar hand on the lines, and Christina's voice callingsoothingly, Dolly's panic began to subside. She came down to a canter, then to a trot. 

"Well!" cried the young man in real amazement. "She is some horse. How do you ever manage to drive her?"

Christina was too angry to answer yet. She could never bear to see anydumb animal hurt, and to have Dolly, her pet, struck--she could feelthe lash of the whip across her own back and was tingling withindignation. And she was more deeply angry for another reason. Shehad divined by Wallace's free manner that he understood just as well asany of the girls that this had all been a ruse to capture him and carryhim off, and she felt enraged that she had to lend herself to such ahumiliation. She would show him that she was no party to the scheme bygetting rid of him then and there. 

When she managed to get Dolly down to a walk she stopped her altogetherjust at the foot of the hill, and turned upon the young man withblazing eyes. 

"Why did you not tell me you didn't know the first thing about drivinga horse?" she demanded. 

Wallace Sutherland stared at her. To him Christina Lindsay was merelyone of the village girls, whom he had gone to school with, in boyhooddays, some of whom waylaid him at the post office to walk home with himand all of whom were anxious for his favour. But suddenly one of themhad detached herself from the crowd and stood out alone and indignant, displaying vigorously the very opposite of admiration or a desire toplease. 

"It was brutal to strike a poor animal like that, " she continued, stillsmarting for Dolly and for her own self respect. 

Wallace felt the blood rise to his face. He remembered that she hadcalled him an idiot. "I suppose you are waiting for me to get out?" hereplied stiffly. For answer Christina turned her horse's head, and thewheel moved aside invitingly for him to alight. Maggie and Bell brokeinto a duet of apologies and protestations. 

"Oh, Mr. Wallace, don't go! Why Christine, how can you act like that?He didn't know Dolly was going to be so wild!" But Christina wasfeeling more for herself than for Dolly and was inexorable. Wallacejumped out, and raised his hat stiffly. But she did not even glance athim, and drove away quickly up the hill. 

"Don't you girls know that he's just making fun of us?" she criedhotly. "He knew just as well as you did that it was all a put up job, and he was a big, stupid, cruel thing to hit Dolly that way, so now. "Christina experienced a fierce relief to her outraged pride in thusbeing able to revile him. 

Maggie Blair was always inclined to be dominated by Christina, and shelooked ashamed. What if her mother were to discover what she had beendoing? But Bell was inclined to argue the matter, and the drive up thehill was anything but pleasant. However, neither of the girls was verymuch disturbed. Christina had made herself obnoxious forever toWallace Sutherland, while he would think none the less of them forbeing full of fun. 

This was the thought uppermost in poor Christina's mind also, when shereached home and her anger cooled leaving only shame and regret. Shehad behaved rudely, --oh, abominably, --to the one person whom above allothers she wished to please. He would despise her and never look ather again. If she had only acted with dignity, but she had called himan idiot! She was overwhelmed with shame when she remembered that. 

She longed for the advice of Ellen or even Mary and she confided hertroubles to her mother in the evening as they sat sewing on the veranda. 

"Well, well, " her mother said comfortingly, not dreaming how badlyChristina was hurt, "indeed I would rather you acted as you did, thanto be taking part in such norms. But I think you would be rather hardon the lad because he did not know how to drive. "

It was poor comfort when your heart was broken, when your Dream Knighthad actually sat by your side and ridden with you and you had treatedhim as though he were a kitchen knave. The only crumb of comfortChristina had was that which her pride provided. At least Wallacewould never dream that she had been silly enough to set him up on apedestal, dream about him at night, and watch for him by day. But itwas a very small and cheerless comfort in a whole world of misery. 

But the result of her outrageous conduct towards the village hero wastotally unlooked for. Wallace became very much interested in thisspunky Lindsay girl. She was different from the other girls, the onereproving thorn in a field of admiring roses. That alone made herrather refreshing. Then he did not like to have a nice girl angry withhim. He was a warm-hearted, easy going lad, who disliked oppositionand disfavour and would do much to please any one. He was genuinelysorry, too, that he had hurt Dolly, for he was the opposite of cruel bynature. 

So the very next evening when he saw Christina and Sandy pass on theirway to that weekly function, Choir Practice, he remembered that thegathering was to be a sort of farewell to Trooper, and with this excusehe suddenly announced that he thought he would go. 

"Of course you'll go, " cried his uncle heartily. "We can't do honourenough to the boys that are going overseas to give their lives for us. I'd like to go, too! I'll drop in when I get back from my trip toDalton. "

So Wallace went off and was welcomed warmly by Tremendous K. And put inthe bass row where Marmaduke and Trooper were sitting. 

"You didn't seem to be able to keep up with that runaway horse, yesterday, " said Marmaduke. 

"I'd like to hammer the two of you jokers for putting up a job likethat on me, " Wallace said good-naturedly. 

"Don't do anything to me, " pleaded Duke, "Christina's been lookin' atme like a buzz saw all evenin'. "

"I'll bet she wasn't in it, " cried Wallace, suddenly anxious thatChristina should be vindicated. 

"No, she wasn't, " admitted Trooper. "And I notice she didn't let youstay in it long either, " he added with a grin. 

"You got let down by one of the girls that time all right, " boastedMarmaduke. "You'll find out you can't get too gay with a Lindsay. "

Wallace felt put upon his mettle immediately. He would show them thateven as outspoken and independent a young lady as Miss ChristinaLindsay was not likely to continue her opposition long. He felt a keendelight in the thought of his victory. 

Tremendous K. Called them sharply to order and the business of singingthrough an anthem for Sunday was finished hastily, and the realbusiness of the evening, a farewell to Trooper, was taken up. They hadcollected enough money to give him a wrist watch, the older women ofthe church had knit him a half dozen pairs of socks, and there was afarewell address which had been prepared by Mr. Sinclair expressingvery feebly a little of what the community felt at the departure oftheir gay and gallant young rider of the plains. 

When it was all over, Gavin Grant watched for Christina. She had beenso kind and friendly every time he had seen her lately, especially whenthey met, as they sometimes did, up on the hills, that he was beginningto wonder if he might not once more put his fortune to the test. 

He waited for her outside the open door; she came out, looking aboutanxiously for some girls going in her direction, when to Gavin'sdismay, Wallace Sutherland stepped to her side, and leaning over hewhispered something. And then they walked away side by side up thehill. 

But Gavin's distress was nothing to the feeling of Maggie and Bell. This seemed incredible after the way Christina had acted. She hadcalled him an idiot, and literally turned him out of her buggy, andyet, here he was seeing her home the very next morning! Truly no onecould tell what was the best way to treat a young man!

Meanwhile Christina's amazement knew no bounds. Wallace went straightto the point. 

"I want to apologise, Miss Christine, " he said humbly, "I know now whyyou were so angry and I don't blame you a bit. It was all Marmaduke'snonsense and I shouldn't have joined it. "

"Oh, it's I who ought to apologise!" cried Christina in a rush ofgratitude. "I was dreadfully rude, but I wanted you to know it wasn'treally you I was angry with, but with the girls and Marmaduke. "

"Well you hid your feelings pretty well, " he said ruefully, and thenthey both laughed. 

"You see I really don't know much about a horse, " he confessedhurriedly. "A car is a different proposition. I thought that usingthe whip was the same as turning on the gasoline and I didn't expectsuch an explosion. "

"I am afraid that I was the one that was guilty of the explosion, " saidChristina contritely, and they grew very friendly over their mutualapologies. Wallace had expected that a reconciliation would have beena difficult matter. He was not the sort to be sorry that it was not. He was very happy to find that, after all, this tall, frank girl, whoheld herself aloof from the doings at the corner, was inclined to lookupon him with friendliness in her bright eyes. He very much enjoyedapologising to her and kept on doing it after they had reached herhome, and they stood together in the moonlight listening to the softwhisper of the leaves in the poplar trees at Christina's gate. 

Of course every one noticed that Wallace Sutherland had gone home withChristina Lindsay, and so much comment did this cause that the factthat Trooper and Joanna walked away together very slowly did notattract much attention. It was probably the last time. Joanna'sspirits had left her. She could not find the strength to pretend anylonger. She was silent and miserable on the way home and Trooper wassilent too. This last leave was a trying experience. He might nevercome back, might never see Joanna's handsome face again, and, afterall, no one would care so much if he were killed as Joanna. And sothey hung over the gate long after her father had gone to bed, andfinally when Trooper tore himself away, he whispered, "Now, not aminute later than four o'clock, " and Joanna answered, "Do you suppose Icould forget?"

Mark Falls always rose at six o'clock, called his daughter and wentinto the blacksmith shop returning at seven for his breakfast. Hefollowed the usual rule the next morning but when he returned, Joannahad no breakfast ready for him. There was a cold lunch set out on thetable but there was no fire in the kitchen stove and no tea made. Hewas a rather cross-grained man but he knew it was never safe toantagonise his daughter and so he called rather mildly up-stairs, "Hi, there Joan, you ain't sick are you?" but Joanna did not answer and hemounted the stairs slowly grumbling about the young folk who wouldnever go to bed at night and never get up till mid-day, and then hestopped in the middle of Joanna's open door. The bed was made and theroom was in its usual spotless order, but there was no sign of itsowner. And then he noticed a note pinned to the pillow with his nameon it. He tore it open in dismayed haste. Mark Falls had always hadthe idea that Joanna would run away some day, perhaps because she wasalways threatening to do it. His mind worked rather slowly and he hadscarcely time to formulate his fears when he had read the note. 

"Dear Pa, There's mush on the back of the stove and you can warm it upfor yourself. Mitty will likely come over and get your meals till Icome back. I guess I will be back on Friday. Trooper and I are goingin to Algonquin to get married before he goes away. You don't need tomake a fuss for if you do there is no great cause for to stay home atall, Joanna. "

Mark Falls merely grunted. It was always what he expected of Joan, hedeclared, she was flighty like her mother. 

He sat down morosely to his breakfast. The mush was not very good whenit was warmed up. He felt sure that Mitty would never cook things ashe liked them. By the time he had finished his unpalatable breakfasthe decided that he would act upon Joanna's hint and make no fuss whenshe returned. Whatever his daughter's temper, there was no doubt shecould make the kind of meals a man could eat. 

CHAPTER X

CALLED TO THE COLOURS

For some time after the first stir of Burke's and Trooper's departure, the war occupied all minds. The first shock of German brutality wasshaking civilisation, and people were trying to readjust themselves toliving back in the days of barbarity. Mr. Holmes was compelled eachday to contradict the prophecies he had made the day before until hebecame quite discouraged, and the groups that met every day at thestore to wait for the daily papers which the Doctor and Mr. Sinclairtook, began to have their long-established faith in his opinions ratherdisturbed. 

For even if the Germans had not succeeded in persuading the postmasterthat he was wrong Dr. McGarry would have done so. The Doctor was atremendously loyal Briton and these disastrous days were hard on histemper. People were afraid to ask him how the war was going, when heopened the newspaper, for if it were bad woe betide the questioner. The reverses of the Allies were nearly breaking his big heart and hehad to vent his grief and wrath on somebody. He railed at Britain forbeing unprepared, he stormed at the United States for their neutrality, and he denounced Canada for being so slow, and always ended up bydeclaring that Germany would win and wishing with all his heart that, instead of being sixty, he were Trooper's age and were riding with himin the Princess Pats. 

This sort of talk made an uncomfortable home atmosphere for youngWallace, who had no desires to be up and away from the comfortablefire-side and all the pleasant surroundings of Orchard Glen, and justnow his environment, with Christina Lindsay's bright eyes to welcomehim wherever he went, was pleasanter than he had ever dreamed it couldbe. 

But if the Doctor's fiery patriotism did not greatly disturb hisnephew, it made life quite miserable for his sister. Indeed the poorlady had more troubles in these days than many a mother who had senther son to the Front. 

The thing she had most feared had come upon her; namely that Wallaceshould take up in the vulgar country fashion with one of the youngwomen of the village. She had to confess to herself that of all theOrchard Glen girls the Lindsays were perhaps the least objectionable, and Christina's manner seemed always quiet and well bred. But at bestthe case was very dreadful. Suppose Wallace became infatuated, andWallace had a habit of doing that, what might not happen? He mighteven want to settle down on a farm here and be married, and he with allUncle William's wealth at his disposal if he would only make proper useof his opportunities!

There was just one fate that would be worse than remaining in OrchardGlen, Wallace might take a notion to enlist, and his Uncle's outburstsof temper were sufficient to drive the boy to do anything desperate. 

She sat herself with all her might to the task of making him studyhard, so that he would be ready to go back to college in the States andbe away from all the temptations of both Christina and the war. Butmaking Wallace study was a heavy task, especially now with hisinfatuation for the Lindsay girl growing stronger every day. 

He was off almost every night with the village rabble. He joined thePresbyterian choir, and the Temperance Society, and went to Bible Classevery Sunday afternoon. And the time that was left from theseengagements, she suspected, he spent at the Lindsay farm. 

Indeed her mind was not at rest concerning him even during the hourswhen he was supposed to be under the tutelage of Mr. Sinclair, thoughMiss Margaret was away. No one knew what Mr. Sinclair would do with ayoung man who came under his influence. Mrs. Sutherland wanted Wallaceto be a good boy, of course, she confessed with tears in her eyes, andshe trusted he would always be religious and go to church as she hadtaught him, but Mr. Sinclair never seemed to know where to stop inmatters of religion, and might spoil all the worldly prospects of ayoung man like Wallace. There was that young Neil Lindsay. Herbrother always said that he was the brightest young man that OrchardGlen had ever sent out, and that he would make his mark in the world, and Mr. Sinclair had spread his blighting influence over him and now hewas studying to be a minister and would likely go away off into somedreadful heathen country and never be heard of again. And indeedOrchard Glen could furnish many another instance of his undoing apromising career. And who knew what he might do with Wallace? Ofcourse ministers existed for the purpose of seeing that wayward sonskept in the path of rectitude, but they ought to know there should betemperance in all things. For while Mrs. Sutherland wanted her son tohave sufficient religion to keep him from going wrong and doinganything disgraceful, she certainly did not want him to have so muchthat it would interfere with his getting on in the world. And Mr. Sinclair seemed to have no notion that getting on in the world matteredat all. 

Wallace continued to be as gay and good-natured as ever in the face ofhis mother's tears and his uncle's temper. He would pull her earplayfully when she admonished him, and when Uncle Peter grew cross andgrumpy he would go off whistling up the hill to the Lindsay farm. 

As for Christina her golden dreams had all come true. She had at lastobtained that one great requisite to happiness, a special cavalier ofher own, to wait upon her and do her bidding. There was no moreslipping home alone forlornly from meetings, no more coaxing John totake her to picnic or concert, no more fear of Gavin Grant seeing herhome. And not only was her cavalier always at her side on theseoccasions, but he was the beau ideal of all the girls in Orchard Glen, as Christina was the envy. Her sweetheart was young and handsome andgallant and gay, indeed the very Dream Knight who had lingered so longjust beyond the horizon and had ridden at last up to her door. 

Mary wrote her delight in Christina's good fortune, hinting just alittle surprise that she should have won a prize where Mary herself hadfailed. Ellen wrote cautioning her sister not to set her heart on anyone for the present. Wallace was young and they would likely beparted, and people saved themselves a great deal of pain if they didnot make plans for the future. 

Christina was too busy to think much of the future, the present wasquite sufficient. For besides all the joyous social events and homeduties, like all the other women of the village she was called upon totake up the burden of Red Cross work. 

The Red Cross Society proved as great a blessing in the divided ranksof Orchard Glen society, as it did on many another field of battle. Itprovided a place where the Methodists and Presbyterians could meet oncommon ground and it was wonderful to see the gradual drawing togetherof the forces that had been rent asunder by the skirl of old Lauchie'sbagpipes It was very heartening to see Mrs. Henderson, Tremendous K. 'swife, and Mrs. Johnnie Brown, the wife of the Methodist Sunday SchoolSuperintendent working side by side. It was impossible to keep fromspeaking when you were sewing on the same hospital shirt and graduallypeople began to forget that there were Methodists and Presbyterians inthe world, remembering only that there were Germany and the Allies. And when Tremendous K. Was asked by the Red Cross Society to get up aconcert that winter to raise Red Cross funds, Methodists and Baptistscame flocking back to the choir and they all sang, "O, Canada" and"It's a Long Way to Tipperary, " together as though there had never beena piper in Orchard Glen. 

But these harmonious heights were not reached without many a rocky bitof road for the Red Cross Society to travel. 

When the Society was formed, a number of women came out from Algonquinto organise, though Mrs. Johnnie Dunn did not see why in common sensethey couldn't form a society themselves without a lot of women fromtown trolloping out to show them how to do something they all knew howto do already. Nevertheless the ladies from town came and theyorganised centres in Dalton and Greenwood and Orchard Glen and in otherplaces all through the country. 

The Orchard Glen Red Cross Society was to meet once a week in thebasement of the Methodist Church, it being the largest available spacein the village. 

Mrs. Sutherland was made President and Mrs. Sinclair Treasurer; andyoung Mrs. Martin was Secretary, with Christina Lindsay to assist andtake the minutes when the children were so bad that nobody could managethem. There was a large executive committee besides, but all theseofficials were quite irrelevant, for Mrs. Johnnie Dunn was the realhead and body and limbs of the society, and looked after all itsbusiness. 

Then The Woman brought out the materials for sewing and knitting fromAlgonquin, and returned the garments when she thought they ought to befinished, and woe betide the unlucky Red Cross worker who was behind aday with a shirt or a pair of socks! For she decreed just how much wasto be done each week, and no Prussian Militarist ever ruled with sohigh a hand. 

"Just add another roll o' towelling to that order, " she would commandthe Algonquin woman who was handing out her month's work, "there's alot o' lazy lumps out at our corner that's sittin' pickin' theirfingers for want o' somethin' to do. "

The Society followed The Woman and the President was left far in therear. Indeed Orchard Glen was rather proud of Mrs. Johnnie Dunn. Shewas so clever and made such a name for them in Red Cross circles. Thevalentine episode was forgotten with other pre-war trivialities and shewas reinstated in her old place of leadership. 

Mrs. Sutherland presided at all Red Cross meetings with something ofthe air of a Queen ruling a much limited monarchy, over which astrenuous and efficient Prime Minister is wielding unlimited power. Itwas an unpleasant position and the rightful monarch might have madeefforts to retain her authority but for the ambassador who kept peacebetween the Queen and the Prime Minister. The peacemaker was the lastwoman in Orchard Glen to be chosen for such a task, and yet a realpeacemaker Joanna proved herself. 

Joanna Falls would never have filled the position, but Joanna Boyd, asevery one was discovering, was a new creature. She came back from herbrief trip with Trooper, when the first contingent left for England. She had a wedding ring on her hand and a new light in her handsomeeyes. And she was so gentle and kindly that those who did not stop toremember that love works miracles scarcely knew her. 

She became Mrs. Sutherland's life-long friend on the very day the RedCross Society was formed. It was after the meeting and people werestanding about asking questions and delivering opinions, Mrs. Sutherland was still sitting on the platform with the visitors fromtown and called Joanna to her. 

"Mrs. Boyd, my dear, " she said pleasantly, "will you come here amoment?"

Joanna looked around in a moment's bewilderment, wondering who Mrs. Boyd was, and then the girls all laughed, and she remembered, and, blushing and looking very beautiful, she obeyed. Mrs. Sutherlandintroduced her as "Our war bride, " and told how Trooper had gone awayat the first call of his country. And the visitors asked her all abouthim, and Joanna, with tears in her handsome eyes, told how he was inthe Princess Pats and expected to be in the fighting any day now. Itwas so wonderful to be able to talk about Trooper and speak out hergrief without shame, that Joanna's voice grew very soft and her mannergentle. And a lady whose only son had also ridden away in the PrincessPatricias' patted her hand and said it was the women who stayed at homewho needed to be brave and that she had many to sympathise with her. 

From that day Joanna became Mrs. Sutherland's right hand, she wasalways ready to do her bidding. Mrs. Sutherland would call across theroom full of shirts and towels and whirring machines, "Mrs. Boyd, mydear, could you find me the back of this shirt? I must have mislaidit. " And Joanna would run and wait on her hand and foot, Joanna whoused to throw the dishwater so it would splash over into Mrs. Sutherland's yard!

And another miracle caused by Trooper's going to the war was thefriendship that sprang up between Joanna and The Woman. Mrs. JohnnieDunn was a warrior at heart herself, and Trooper's leap to the firstsound of the bugle thrilled her. She would have parted with a year'sprofits on milk before she would confess this, but she was reallyinordinately proud of her soldier and her feelings were displayed inher treatment of him. He had enough socks to foot every man in thePrincess Patricias and there was never a soldier in the Canadian Armyreceived such boxes of cake and candy as Trooper. 

So his wife and his aunt became firm friends in their common love andpride. They sat together at sewing meetings, sharing scraps of eachother's letters and the latest bit of news concerning the Princess Pats. 

But Joanna had no easy task keeping peace in the Red Cross Society. The course of that blessed institution ran over a rough bed of rocksfrom the day of its inception. 

There were a deal of rules about the fashioning of shirt collars andthe hemming of sheets and the sewing on of buttons and the folding ofbandages which The Woman characterised as tomfoolery. The Presidentwas for keeping the rules. She believed in system, she stated in heraddress to the Society, but Mrs. Johnnie Dunn believed only in her ownsystem, and told every one to go ahead and do things the way they hadalways done and they'd be all right. 

Then there was the knitting! Granny Minns, who could turn out her socka day, and not omit a tittle of Mitty's scolding, said the KitchenerToe was all humbug. She had knit for her son Tom all his life and herhusband too, and was now knitting for Burke. And Burke said her sockswere Just right, and what was good enough for Burke was good enough forthe other soldiers!

She had an army of followers who were ready to second all she said. Mrs. Lindsay and the Grant Girls and Mrs. Brown and Tremendous K. 'smother were all superexcellent knitters, and Mrs. Brown who was no moreafraid of Mrs. Sutherland than The Woman was, said right out in themeeting that the Kitchener Toe was jist some norms got up by the womenin the town who hadn't enough to do, and had never learned to knit, anyhow! And Mrs. Brown and Tremendous K. 's wife took to walking hometogether after the meetings, just to discuss the foolish fashions ofsome women like Mrs. Sutherland!

Mrs. Sinclair asked for one of the leaders to come out from town andtell about the Kitchener Toe. The lady came and they had an extrameeting in the basement of the Methodist church, and passed around teaand cake and pie afterward. The lady spoke of the horrors of TrenchFeet, and showed how the wrong sort of knitting would be sure toproduce it. But as Granny Minns never went anywhere, and Mrs. Lindsayand the Grant Girls went only to church, and Mrs. Brown was too deaf tohear, and Mrs. Tremendous K. Told her it was just all dishwater anyway, the talk had very little effect. 

So a secret society was formed, of which Joanna and Mrs. Sutherlandwere the leaders. They met at night with drawn blinds and lockeddoors, and ripped out the uneven and condemned knitting and knit it upagain. And before long Orchard Glen was mentioned in the Algonquinpapers as the one place that always sent in perfect socks. And aphotographer came out from town and took a picture of Granny Minns, asthe oldest knitter of faultless socks, and it was put in the paper andOrchard Glen was held up as an example for the countryside and was theenvy of the whole knitting public. 

The excitement over Red Cross troubles during the winter almost madefolk forget the war. The terrible onrush of the enemy had been stoppedat the Marne, and, lulled by an over-censored press, the public settleddown to the belief that when the Spring came the Germans would beforced back across the Rhine and the war would be over. Britain wassafe anyway, every one knew that. For there was the Navy and that, asevery one knew, was invincible. 

The first contingent had gone; English and Scottish reservists likeBurke had left, and many another Old Country man had volunteered, goingback to give the old land a helping hand. Then there were the gay ladsfull of adventure like Trooper, up and away at the first glad chance oflooking into "the bright face of danger, " and some serious minded onesalso, knowing that a terrible danger menaced humanity and they muststand as a wall between. But the great mass of young Canada was as yetundisturbed, and while the press could have called them with one buglesound, the press sent them back to their work and their play, and sothey lingered undisturbed. 

Wallace had to part with Christina at Christmas time, a consummationthat had been devoutly looked forward to by his mother. He left herwith many promises to write and to be home for Easter. Christina hadscarcely time to miss him for Sandy and Neil came home and Mary andHugh McGillivray came up from Port Stewart and the house rang with thegood times they all had together. And Grandpa could scarcely bepersuaded to go to bed lest he miss some of Jimmie's and Sandy's antics. 

On Christmas day a letter came from the two absent ones. They wereinvited to take dinner with some friends in Prairie Park, people whohad heard Neil preach when he was in the west, and they declared hewould be one of Canada's leading preachers some day. 

Allister wrote a longer letter than usual to Christina. There was anentirely new note in it. 

"This war has knocked things endways for me I'm afraid, " he said. "Youneedn't say anything to John or the boys yet, but if everything keepsrolling down hill as fast as it's been going there will be no collegefor any one next year. So perhaps you were just as wise to stay home. I didn't know just how good you were to let Ellen come till she told meall about it. It's been rough on Ellen and you've been a brick to lether come. But if things don't get too rotten we'll win out yet andmake the world sit up and take notice. Ellen's got the craze to gonursing and she wants to start right away. Only she thinks she oughtto go home. If she trains maybe she'll be going overseas if this wardoesn't show some signs of ending. "

It was not at all like Allister, and Christina was filled with anxiety. What if Sandy and Neil had to be stopped in their college course? AndAllister had furnished many a comfort on the farm that made life easierfor them all and especially for John and had hinted that there might bea car in the Spring. If his money all went with the war, there wouldbe never again any chance for her. But she did not worry over herself, only wrote to Ellen urging her to take her nurse's course by all means, for everything was quite all right at home. 

When the pleasant rush of Christmas was over she was rather surprisedto find that life was not so dull as she had expected. She missedWallace, but not quite so much as she felt she should. She grewimpatient with herself and began to wonder if she were different fromother girls. Mary lived for Hugh, and Ellen's days had arrangedthemselves around Bruce's coming and going, and she could not but askwhy she was not as joyous over Wallace's preference for her as she hadexpected to be. 

When he was away from her he seemed to be her very ideal Knight, sohandsome and brave and good, but when he was in her presence, he wasjust a very ordinary, pleasant young man, with no halo of romance abouthim. She was rather disappointed in herself. She wondered if she wereof a dissatisfied nature whom nothing could please. 

And then she had no sooner settled down to a lonely winter thansuddenly Wallace came back. He came up to see her on the very eveningof his return, to explain his sudden appearance and tell her all thetragic sum of his experiences. 

It appeared that his hopes were all blasted; his uncle had behaved in ashameful manner. In spite of the fact that Wallace had almost studiedhimself ill all Fall, Uncle William simply refused to let him go backto college. 

"But your examination!" cried Christina in dismay. "You passed that, didn't you?"

Wallace had neglected to explain about the examination. One paper, theLatin prose, was quite beyond belief. The man who set it was crooked, there was no doubt about it, and anyway Wallace had always felt thatMr. Sinclair was very old-fashioned in his methods. A fellow justcouldn't learn under him. 

Christina's heart was striving to excuse him, declaring that he hadbeen ill-used, while her head was protesting that he was only a spoiledboy who had wasted his opportunities, and was now ready to lay theblame at any door but his own. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, " she declared with real sympathy. "And what willyou do now?"

"I think I'll enlist, " he declared despondently, sinking down into thedepths of the soft couch, one of the comforts that Allister's money hadmade possible. "There isn't anything else for me to do. I've had suchrotten luck. "

He glanced at Christina as he spoke and was rather disconcerted to seethat she made no opposition. His mother always wept and wrung herhands, and made any concession at the merest suggestion of his going tothe Front, and he had supposed that Christina would, at least, showsome agitation. 

But instead there came a sudden light into her eyes. 

"Oh, " she declared, "it must be grand to be a man and go away and fightfor freedom!"

Wallace raised his head and stared at her. 

"I don't believe you'd care a mite if I were killed!" he criedreproachfully. 

Christina's eyes dropped to the grey sock she was knitting. 

"Oh, I--I didn't mean that!" she cried apologetically. "I--I justthought maybe you wanted to go. "

"I can't leave mother, " he declared, "that's one sure thing. Andanother is that I'm going to give up the University. I never wanted togo anyway. I think I'll go into business, or perhaps I'll farm. I'mgoing to stay home for a week or so anyway and talk things over withUncle Peter. "

He seemed to forget his troubles after this resolution and became hisold gay self, and Christina's head gave way to her heart and she wasaltogether happy that he had come home. 

But there was not much happiness or comfort in the red house with thepillars. Dr. McGarry had helped his sister indulge they boy and now hewas angry with him for turning out the exact product to be expectedfrom their indulgence. The Doctor stormed and scolded and Mrs. Sutherland wept. Wallace threatened to enlist. Uncle Peter said itwas the best thing he could do and then, when things were reallygetting quite intolerable and Wallace was packing his trunk for partsunspecified, fate intervened once more and he was taken down with whatthe Doctor said was a very heavy cold but which Mrs. Sutherlanddeclared might easily develop into pneumonia. 

Mitty Wright, who did Mrs. Sutherland's washing, reported that the wayhis mother waited on the young gentleman and babied him was a caution, and the Doctor was nearly as bad, running up and down stairs, scoldingone minute and giving medicine the next. The patient responded to thegood nursing and before the middle of January he was able to beoutdoors again. He convalesced very happily, especially after he wasable to walk as far as the Lindsay hill. Uncle William showed no signof repentance, though Mrs. Sutherland told him how near to death's doorthe boy had been, but Wallace did not seem disturbed. The evilprovided by Uncle Peter's war-distemper was sufficient unto the daywithout worrying over Uncle William. The old man would come round yet, Wallace felt sure, and meanwhile he was having a very pleasant time andOrchard Glen with Christina in it was a very delightful place. 

Jimmie came stamping in one wild boisterous evening when February hadbegan to shout across the country from hill to hill and turn the worldinto a whirling whiteness. 

It was Friday evening and he was earlier than usual as Mrs. JohnnieDunn had given him a lift more than half way in her cutter. And shehad so much Red Cross truck piled into it, he complained, that his feetstuck out into the drifts all the way home. 

He had stopped at the postoffice for the mail, and there was a letterfrom Neil. His regular Tuesday letter had come as usual and a secondone was rather surprising. 

Christina ran with it into the sitting room where her mother was sewingovertime on a couple of hospital shirts that The Woman said had to beready for Monday, and not a minute later. 

"A letter from Neily, " Mrs. Lindsay said, stopping her work and takingoff her spectacles to await the reading. "What will he be wanting tosay at this time o' the week?"

Christina tore it open and went to the window to catch the last lightof the short winter day. The letter started as usual with the weeklybudget of college news. Every one was speeding up, now, for Spring andexams, had just turned the last corner and were coming straight atthem. Sandy's new room was something superfine and much warmer thanthe last, but board wasn't getting any better. They were all longingfor a taste of Mother's biscuits and Christine's pies. And then theletter fell back into reminiscences of old days, as Neil's letters hada habit of doing. 

"Do you remember, Mother, when we were little and any dangerthreatened, I was always the shy one who ran and got behind yourskirts? And do you remember you were always saying to John and me, andespecially to me, 'Lads must be brave?' It was not so bad, I rememberyour saying, if Ellen or Mary were to take fright when a stranger cameto the house, or Mr. Sinclair called to hear our Catechism, but it wasa real disgrace for a boy. 'Lads must be brave' was your slogan. Andmany a time it has braced me in hard places since. Out on the prairie, for instance, when it was deadly lonesome, and the work seemed to be nouse, and down here in the city when I gave out my text the night Ipreached in Hamilton Street Church, and looked up and saw old ProfessorJohnstone sitting straight in front of me, looking at his boots. Itell you, Mother, the consolations of religion were not so upholding atsuch moments as your 'Lads must be brave. '

"And how it has been 'dingin' in my ears these days to fairly deeveme, " as Tremendous K. Would say. "The bugle calls it every morningwhen the boys march out on the campus. I see it in every headline ofthe paper; I hear it in every call for men, and I'm afraid I haven'twanted to listen. I have wanted my life to run along a smooth road, the one I have planned for myself; a fine church with a big salary, plenty of time to study and a little to travel, and you sitting in theManse pew with the best silk dress in the church. That has been myprogramme. But the pleasant road was not the way the Master went, andthe servant cannot choose. He trod the hard way, and there is not theslightest doubt in my mind which way He wants me to go. I know you areguessing already at what I am going to ask of you. And now I must turnupon you with your own slogan and say, 'Mothers must be brave!' Oh, how brave and gallant they must be in these days, only they can know. But I know you, Mother, well enough to tell that you will say yes whenI ask you to be brave enough to let me enlist. It is not a matter ofchoice with me, I am constrained. Woe is me if I go not to Belgium!"

"I wish I could say this is all I am asking you to give up. Is it toomuch that we ask you to let Sandy go, too? He is more eager than I andsaw his duty clearly from the first. We both realise that yours is thehardest part. But your sons couldn't be slackers. And after all thewar may not last so long, and we'll be home before you know it. Sandywill likely be a general, and who knows but I may get to be alance-corporal!"

There was more in the same light strain and a note for Christina fromSandy, saying he was taking the officers' course and she must rememberwhen he came home to say "sir" to him when she addressed him. 

But Christina did not read the letter through at first. When the fullmeaning of it burst upon her she turned to her mother, expecting to seetears, but instead her mother's small bent figure had grown suddenlystraight and her eyes were shining with a strange mingling of pride andanguish. 

"Oh, Mother!" cried Christina, "oh, don't I wish I were a boy!"

"Whisht, whisht!" cried her mother, "I could ill spare you, Christine, I can ill spare the lads. " And then she rose and went quietly into thebedroom and shut the door, and Christina knew that her mother had gonefor strength to bear this trial to the source of all power. 

When Wallace came up the hill the next evening, he found the Lindsaysin a state of subdued excitement. Christina's cheeks were crimson andher eyes shone until she looked positively handsome. 

"Sandy and Neil are both going to the war, " she cried half in dismay, half in exultation. 

"Are they really?" asked Wallace. "They're lucky. This beastlybreakdown of mine has spoiled all my chances. My, I'd like to be intheir boots!"

Christina felt a sudden rising of resentment. "I don't think they area bit lucky, " she burst forth. "You surely don't call it lucky to goto the front and get badly wounded, and perhaps killed?"

Wallace smiled a superior smile. "There's not much danger of that. The boys won't get over there for a year at best, and the war willlikely be all over by that time. Germany can't stand this strain formany more months. "

Christina had a distinct feeling of disappointment. She had wantedWallace to admire the boys for all they were giving up, and he wascalling them lucky, and maintaining an envious attitude as though theywere off on a free trip to Europe. She changed the subject hastily andhe did not refer to the war again that evening. 

Jimmie and Uncle Neil alone were filled with rejoicing. Uncle Neilfelt an exultation that he was at pains to hide. He said little, forhis sister's anguished eyes forbade that he voice the pride that wasconsuming him, but he sat up half the night playing his fiddle, and forthe next few days he went about whistling all the warlike songs he knew. 

The news was shouted to Grandpa, along with extracts from Neil'sletter, before he went to bed. He made little comment, merely sayingthat "they were fine lads and would do their duty. " But Christina knewhe was deeply grieved that Neil should be turned aside from theministry. He expressed no sorrow but he did not sing the Hindmost Hymnand the next morning at family worship he read, "Why art thou cast down, oh, my soul, and why art thou disquietedwithin me?"

CHAPTER XI

"LAST LEAVE"

The Lindsay boys did not get home on leave until the Easter vacation, for they were taking their military training along with theiruniversity work. John drove down to Silver Creek Crossing to meetthem, for the roads to town were almost impassable. The home-coming ofthe boys had always been the great event in their family life, but itwas a far more wonderful thing this time; it had something of theflavour of heroes returning from the war. 

Christina and Jimmie met them at the road gate under the moaningpoplars, where the wind whipped her skirts about her and blew her hairinto her eyes. 

Their mother and Uncle Neil were half way down the lane, and evenGrandpa had hobbled to the edge of the garden to meet the soldier boyshome on their first leave. Christina had known they would be in khaki, but when a trim young private of artillery in jingling spurs andbandolier, and a smart young subaltern in shining boots and straps andbelt and what not leaped from the democrat and charged upon her;instead of running to meet them, their sister put her head down againstthe gate post and burst into tears. Somehow the sight of Sandy in theuniform of his country's service had overwhelmed Christina with a senseof the great gulf that had yawned between them. Sandy and Neil weregone and there were two soldier-men in their place. Manlike, they didnot understand her tears. 

"Goodness, Christine!" cried Sandy, jovially, "if you're sorry we'vecome home, we can turn right back if you'd rather. "

"You silly thing--I--I'm not sorry, " gasped Christina; kissing them andturning from tears to laughter. "I--I forgot you'd be in uniform. "

"Well, cheer up, " said Neil comfortingly, "I'll admit that the sight ofSandy's calves is enough to make anybody weep, but he'll fatten up nextsummer--here's Mother!"--and he ran up the lane at a breakneck pace. 

Certainly Sandy's calves were not any too stout. He looked like a whiphandle dressed up, Uncle Neil said as he circled round him admiringly. But he was as neat and smart as a whip, too, even if he were thin andeven John could not hide his admiration. And as for Grandpa, he had totake refuge in Gaelic exclamations to express himself. 

The mother spoke just one hint of her regrets as they sat around thesupper table, Neil at her right hand. She smoothed his rough khakisleeve, examining the cloth closely, and pronounced it a finecomfortable piece that would wear well. 

"It's the only cloth to wear these days, Mother, " Neil said. "Don'tyou think so?"

She shook her head. "I would be hoping to see you in a black coat, Neily, " she said softly. 

"That'll come later, " said Neil comfortingly. "You think I did right, don't you?" he continued, anxiously. 

"Oh, yes, yes, indeed, you did right, and I'm proud that you will bewanting to go, " she declared bravely. And Neil's heart was content. 

These were stirring days in Orchard Glen while the boys were home. Allthe boys and girls gathered at the Lindsays just as they used to. Butthere was one family missing. The McKenzies were absent, and UncleNeil never sang the "Standard on the Braes o' Mar" any more. 

There was great fun with Sandy and Neil, for Sandy was an officer andhis elder brother a private, and it was impossible for them to rememberthat Neil's old air of authority with Sandy was now quite out of place. The private was always saluting the subaltern with tremendous gravity, and the next moment treating him in a manner that deserved acourt-martial. 

Jimmie followed his soldier brothers about in a passion of admiration. And one day the ambition that was burning him up burst forth. 

"Say, what do you think?" he cried excitedly, coming in with theafternoon mail. "Tommy Holmes has enlisted, and he's a month youngerthan I am. "

"Then he's a silly youngster, and ought to be kept washing dishes topunish him, " said Neil sharply. "No boy under eighteen has any rightto enlist!"

"I'll be eighteen next Fall!" declared Jimmie defiantly. 

"Which means you've barely turned seventeen, so hold your tongue, " saidSandy. 

Jimmie saluted with mock meekness. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, " hesaid, with a great show of nervousness. 

Uncle Neil laughed uproariously, but brother Neil looked serious, andwhen milking time came he took Jimmie aside in the barn. 

"You're worrying Mother, with your talk about enlisting, " he said. "Can't you see that, and be quiet. "

"I want to go as much as you do, " said Jimmie stubbornly. 

"I don't want to go at all, " declared Neil, and his younger brotherstared. "And neither would you if you would stop and think what afearful thing this war is. I'm going because it is my duty, and so isSandy. It's your duty to stay at home and finish the education Johnand Allister are giving you, and look after Mother. 

"I don't want to go back to school, " grumbled Jimmie, "Not after I'vepassed next summer, anyway. "

"John doesn't want to stay here on the farm. He'd like to go to theFront, but he stays. You are young and you will be needed later. Sobe a man and do your duty. All the soldiers aren't going info thetrenches. "

But his advice had little effect on Jimmie, the war fever was in hisveins. He gave his promise, however, to wait until he was eighteen, and Neil had to be content. But he was restless and fretful under therestriction, he felt quite sure that the war would all be over longbefore that date and his great opportunity would be gone. 

Meanwhile Orchard Glen was slowly waking up at the call for men. TommyHolmes rushed into khaki after the first glorious sight of the Lindsayboys in the village street, and Tremendous K. 's eldest son followed. And Christina had the heavy task of writing to Ellen to tell her thatBruce had given up his prospects of being a Doctor, and was enlistedwith the University corps. Mr. Sinclair's only son, who was a ministerin a neighbouring town, came home to say farewell, dressed in hischaplain's uniform, and the little village lived in a whirl ofexcitement. 

The Red Cross Society was busy night and day making socks for the boyswho had left, with the result that they each one got far more than anyyoung man with only two feet could possibly wear. 

All this stir, and the sight of so much khaki coming and going in thevillage had a bad effect upon Dr. McGarry. Every day he took the warmore grievously to heart. He and Mr. Holmes took different sides as tothe conduct of the spring campaign, and after Tommy enlisted it was notsafe for the Doctor to go into the store, so high did feeling run. 

And at home the Doctor was even worse, until poor Mrs. Sutherland'slife was scarcely worth living. Wallace unwittingly brought down atorrent of wrath upon his head one day when the Spring Drive was on andprospects were looking black. It was an inopportune moment for Wallaceto broach the subject upon which he had been thinking deeply for manydays. 

"Uncle, " he said, as they sat down to their pretty tea-table in thesun-flooded dining-room. "I'd like to go on a farm this Spring. ThatFord place below the mill is for sale, and the Browns are talking ofbuying it. You've always wanted to retire on a farm and I could startthe work and----"

He paused, interrupted by his mother's dismayed exclamation. "Wallace!You with your prospects to settle down here and be a common farmer!Surely you don't mean it!"

"Elinor, don't be foolish!" snapped her brother, looking up from adreary paragraph concerning a British reverse that was attempting toappear as a strategic move. "You might be glad to have him a commonfarmer, as you call it. And as for his prospects, I don't see whatthey are, to tell you the truth. "

"Don't you agree with me, Uncle?" cried Wallace ingratiatingly. "Theseold chaps here farm like Noah before the flood. I'd like to show someof them an up-to-date way of managing stock. " But his uncle was notcapable of agreeing with anybody. His sister's tears forbade that heput his duty before his nephew, and it fairly broke the old man's heartthat Wallace needed any one to suggest that he enlist. In times ofpeace he would have sympathised with the boy's desire to be a farmer, and he approved highly of Christina, but just now he could listen tonothing but the cry of Belgium. 

"What's the use of talking a lot of rot!" he burst forth irritably. "You needn't ask my advice about farming! Before you'd get your cropoff your farm next Fall the Kaiser of Germany would have everything tosay about it. How will you like it when you have to pass over most ofyour profits to him and his War Lords? Here we are planning andscheming and all the time we're living in a Fool's Paradise, with theenemy at our door! We are marrying and giving in marriage, while thefloods are pouring in upon us! Yes, go farming to-morrow if you like!It'll only be for a few months anyway. The Philistines are upon us!"

Matters were always serious when the Doctor took to quoting Scripture, and Mrs. Sutherland reached protectingly for her cut-glass spoon trayas his fist came down with a crash upon the table. 

The result of the unhappy episode was that Wallace tramped sulkily upto his room after supper, and when his distressed mother went up tocomfort him, she found him packing his suit-case once more. He wasgoing to enlist. This was the end, he could stand no more, he declared. 

"Oh, Wallace, Wallace, you will surely break your widowed mother'sheart, " declared Mrs. Sutherland in despair. She wept and pleaded. She made extravagant promises. She would write to Uncle William, shewould even go to see him if he thought best, she would not urge him togo back to college if he did not want to. She would write UncleWilliam about the farm and she would try to make Uncle Peter be morereasonable if only Wallace would promise that he would not break herheart by enlisting. Wallace was a warm-hearted boy who could not bearto look upon distress. So he promised and his mother put aside all herhigh hopes and wrote humbly and pleadingly to her brother. Wallace wasreally not strong enough to study, the confinement seemed to impair hishealth. Peter agreed with her there. He would like to go farming, there was an excellent chance to buy or rent a place right near thevillage. Peter was interested in it and declared that he would like toretire and go on this farm some day. They felt that Wallace's healthwould improve if he had outdoor life, etc. 

Whatever the letter contained it proved the key to unlock UncleWilliam's closed money box. He was not at all a hard man and hissister's distress moved him. He wrote that he was glad that the youngcub had sense enough to farm, for it was no use trying to educate him. But he thought that a military training would be good for a youngfellow's health. However, if he would rather feed the pigs and cleanout the stable than go to college, all right, let him, that wasprobably his proper place. The words stung but they were covered by amost wonderful cheque, with instructions to Uncle Peter to see that theyoungster did not throw it away. 

Mrs. Sutherland was relieved even in the midst of her bitterdisappointment. She had had such high ambitions for Wallace and nowthere seemed nothing ahead of him but the life of a common farmer. Hewould marry Christina Lindsay and probably never go further from homethan Algonquin and William would give all his money to Tom's girls whohad more now than they needed. But there was no alternative, and whenshe thought of his enlisting she was thankful that there was somethingto keep him at home. The recruiting officers would not trouble a youngman on a farm. 

From that time Christina noticed a marked change in Mrs. Sutherland'sattitude toward her. From being coldly aloof she became warmlygracious and treated her second only to Joanna. Christina accepted thechange gratefully. It had always been a trial, this disapproval ofWallace's mother. She ought to be very happy, she told herself, whenshe scolded herself for still longing to be away. Wallace would alwaysbe in Orchard Glen now, the Ford place had good barns and a fine oldhouse, and who knew?--her heart beat fast at the thought, but there wasno thrill of joy accompanying. Some subtle change had come overChristina since Sandy had enlisted. It seemed as if there could be noother course for a young man now in these days of agony and blood. Herheart was away with her brothers in their high endeavour and could becontent with nothing less. 

It was a beautiful Autumn day when Sandy and Neil came home for theirlast leave, as bright and happy as though they were going for apleasure trip round the world. Hugh MacGillivray brought Mary home tosay good-bye to them, for Mary was needing special care these days andcould not travel alone. 

Grandpa read the 91st Psalm at worship the morning before they left, and he paused and looked at the two young soldiers as he read thewords. "Thou shalt not be afraid of the terror by night nor for thearrow that flieth by day . .. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and tenthousand at thy right hand but it shall not come nigh thee. "

Christina listened and wondered and a strange new doubt crept into hersoul. How could she believe that promise, knowing that so many braveboys had fallen before the arrow that flieth by day and that these dearones might meet a similar fate? Were the words of that psalm merelybeautiful sounding phrases that meant nothing? She glanced at hermother to see if she could read a similar doubt there; but Mrs. Lindsay's face was rapt, as though she had seen a new vision of thepsalm's meaning, and Christina was puzzled and disheartened. 

She held up her head bravely, standing at the garden gate to wave themgood-bye as they drove down the lane in the golden sunlight. Then sheran down the lane after them, stumbling a little when a mist came overher eyes. She even ran down the road, gallantly waving her apron aslong as Sandy waved his cap, feeling glad that he could not see thetears that were streaming down her face. And she made sure that thedemocrat had disappeared behind the hill before she gave way and sankdown sobbing on the dusty grass of the roadside. 

She went back to the desolate home, she must not linger over her grieffor she was needed there as comforter. Her mother had disappeared intothe sanctuary of her room where she was seeking strength from thesource that had never failed her in all life's trials and would holdher up even in this great agony. Grandpa was sitting fumblinghelplessly with his hymn book and arguing with himself. She could hearhim whispering, "Be not far from me, O Lord, for trouble is near!" andshe patted his bowed white head gently as she passed. Uncle Neil hadfled to the barn, and Mitty was crying over the wash-tub in the shed. Christina went furiously to work, as her refuge from tears. It wouldnever do to break down and be no use when Sandy was gone away to fightfor her!

But work would not last all day. It was finished in the evening andWallace came up in his usual gay spirits to report progress on his newfarm, where everything was running in the most up-to-date manner. ButChristina was too sad to even pretend to be interested. She could notrejoice over a new gasoline engine that was to do all the work, whenSandy and Neil were to be made part of the cruel engine of war. Andfor the first time Wallace found her uninterested and consequentlyuninteresting. 

CHAPTER XII

"ALL THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER!"

One day early in the Winter, when the boys' English letters had begunto arrive regularly, Auntie Elspie Grant came over the hills on hersnowshoes, to pay a visit of sympathy to Mrs. Lindsay. She brought abottle of the liniment they made every Fall from the herbs of theCraig-Ellachie garden, a stone jar of their best raspberry cordial, apot of mincemeat, and a piece of Christmas cake. 

She spent a long afternoon while they both knitted socks and read theboys' letters and heard the latest news of Allister and Ellen and Maryand discussed at great length the never-failing virtues of Gavin. Johndrove the guest home in the cutter round by the road, for Mrs. Lindsaycould not bear the sight of Elspie walking away over the drifts, thoughas a matter of fact, Elspie in her youthful spirits enjoyed itimmensely. 

"Elspie Grant's worryin' about Gavin, " said Mrs. Lindsay, when theguest had gone and the early supper was being cleared away. 

"What's the matter with him?" asked Christina with that feeling of selfcondemnation that any thought of Gavin always brought. 

"She doesn't quite know. That's the trouble. He's not been eating andhe doesn't seem to want to go anywhere. I wonder what can be wrongwith the lad? Such a comfort as Gavin will be to the girls!"

Christina did not suggest an explanation. She had no self-conceit, andcould not imagine that Gavin was grieving over her to the extent ofloss of appetite. But she could not help wondering if she contributedin any measure to his trouble. For now that the matter was drawn toher attention she remembered that Gavin was not taking the part in thelife of the young people of the village which he had once taken. Sincethe Red Cross Society had brought about a reunion of the divided forcesof Orchard Glen, social activities had become very popular, but Gavinwas not one of the reunited company. He did not come to the Temperancemeetings any more and had dropped Choir Practice. He had even left thechoir of his own church and he had deserted on the very day when he wasmost needed, the day they unveiled the Honour Roll with the names ofthe boys who had gone overseas. And in spite of all Tremendous K. 'sscolding and pleadings he would not return. 

"Gavin Grant's queer, " grumbled Jimmie. "We were depending on him togive something the next night the boys have to give the programme, buthe won't even help with the singing. "

"Did you ask him what was the matter?" asked Christina, interested. "Auntie Elspie told Mother that he is acting as if he were sick. "

"I think he's acting just plain mean, " declared Jimmie, who had beentaking Sandy's place with Gavin lately and was disappointed in him. "Maybe he's in love, " he added with a grin and went off whistling. 

But it was not that altogether that troubled Gavin, for there wascertainly something very badly wrong with the lad. It was love and warcombined that ailed him, and the war had become a burden too heavy forhis strong young shoulders. 

For quiet, shy, gentle Gavin was burning to be up and away into thestruggle. His daily tasks of peace had become a galling joke scarcelyto be borne. And the more he yearned to be gone the more bitterly heblamed himself for what he called his ingratitude and faithlessness. He loved his three foster-mothers with all the power of his loyal youngheart. They had rescued him from a miserable starved childhood and hadlavished all the wealth of their loving hearts upon him. And now hehad grown to manhood, and every year they looked more and more to himfor support. Their declining years had come and he dared not face thepossibility of leaving them. He argued the matter out with himself byday in field and barnyard, and by night as he tossed on his sleeplessbed. Why should he yearn to go when his duty plainly declared that heshould stay? Many of the young farmers about Orchard Glen, boys he hadgrown up with and who could easily be spared, never thought for amoment of the war as their task. And why should he, who was so sadlyneeded at home?

But it was inevitable that Gavin should be unhappy in the safety ofhome while the world was in agony. Without realising it the GrantGirls had raised their boy to be a soldier, they so gentle and so peaceloving. Life had not been narrow, even away back at Craig-Ellachie, where the grass grew in the middle of the corduroy road. Gavin hadbeen nurtured on songs and tales of noble deeds and deathless devotion. He had been reared in a home where each one vied with the other inforgetting self and serving the other. The best books had been hisdaily reading. And, greatest of all, he had been trained to take ashis life's pattern the One whose sole purpose had been not to beministered unto, but to minister. 

Night after night as he was growing into manhood, Auntie Flora wouldseat herself at the little old organ, and together they would all sailhappily over a sea of song, thrilling ballads of the old days when menwent gaily to death, singing

 "So what care I though Death be nigh, I live for love or die!"

Then Auntie Elspie would put aside her spinning and Auntie Janet herknitting and they would tell him tales from the glorious history of theclan Grant. And he was never tired of hearing that story of the IndianMutiny, told the Grant Girls by their grandfather; how a Highlandregiment held a shot torn position till help came, held againstoverwhelming odds while men fell on every side, held, crying to eachother all up and down the sore-pressed line, "Stand fast, Craig-Ellachie!"

And so Gavin could not but grow up filled with great aspirations. Hecould no more help being chivalrous and self-forgetful than he couldhelp having the slow, soft accent of his Aunties. 

And then into his high-purposed life came the Great Occasion! Itseemed as if he had been trained just for this. It called to him andhim alone. The greatest struggle of history; a death-struggle ofsore-pressed Freedom against hideous Oppression was shaking the earth, and the smoke of the conflict was blackening the heavens--and throughit all Gavin Grant remained at peace in his home! Every old Belgianwoman of whom he read, driven from her ruined home, was Auntie Elspie. Every Belgian girl, suffering unspeakable wrong, was Christina. Andthey were crying night and day to him for help and crying in vain. 

Many a night, after he had read a flaming page of Belgium's andArmenia's fearful history, he sat, sleepless, by the dying kitchen fireuntil dawn, and the day that the name of Edith Cavell was written inletters of fire across the sides of civilisation, Gavin went off intothe woods alone with his axe, and tried to put some of the fury thatwas burning him up into savage blows against the unoffending timber. 

And then the Orchard Glen boys began to answer the call, one by one;Burke and Trooper, and Christina's brothers. Tommy Holmes and CharlieHenderson, and Bruce McKenzie, and he was like Gareth in the storyAuntie Flora had so often told him, Gareth who had to work in thekitchen, while his brother-knights rode clanking past him through thedoorway, out into the world of mighty deeds, out to meet Death on theField of Glory. Those were the days when he had to repeat "Stand fast, Craig-Ellachie" over and over again as he went about his peacefultasks. It brought him little comfort, for it was not to stand fastthat he wanted, but to spring forward in answer to the call to thehazardous task, to death itself, the call which through the ages hasalways summoned the high heart. Sometimes the acutest misery wouldseize him at the thought that persistently haunted him, the fear thatif he had been really a Grant he would have seen his duty more clearlyand would already be in the battle line. Perhaps there was somenecessary spirit left out of him, some saving quality which hisdegraded parents could not hand down to him. If he had been of betterblood might he not have paid no attention to tears and partings buthave thrown away everything in the glorious chance of dying in thegreatest cause for which the world had ever struggled?

He argued the question from every point, and yet he could not find itin his soul to leave his Aunts. He watched them intently to see ifthey would drop any hint of their opinion in the matter. But whilethey highly admired Trooper and commended the Lindsay boys, saying thatnot even the ministry should keep Neil at home, he could not elicitfrom them the smallest hint that they thought he was called to enlist. And so he set his teeth, determined to Stand Fast though his heartshould break. But he was ashamed to be seen in public and he grew moreshy and reticent as the hard days dragged on. Gradually he dropped outof all the activities that used to take him to the village. When hewent he always saw Christina and Wallace Sutherland together, and thatsight added to his misery. And finally he could not bear to hearhimself sing. He looked down at his big brawny hands and arms and feltashamed that he should be standing in a safe and peaceful place, singing! He choked at the thought. He sometimes wished he were not sobig and strong. If he were small and weak like Willie Brown or evenhad one leg like Duke it would be easier to bear. 

He gave no reason when he suddenly left the choir the day the HonourRoll was unveiled. He could not confess that he found it intolerableto sit up there right next to that list of heroes. His Auntsremonstrated gently, but though he answered as gently he wasunyielding. So he went back to the family pew and sat beside AuntieElspie. To be sure the growing Honour Roll faced him there, every namewritten in letters of flame that leaped out and scorched him, but atleast he did not have to sing back there and could bear his shamebetter. 

His Aunts worried themselves almost ill over him. Auntie Janet dosedhim with medicine and compelled him to wear heavier underwear. AuntieFlora was so fearful that his spiritual condition was languishing thatshe spoke to Mr. Sinclair and he promised to see Gavin and talk to him. Auntie Elspie said nothing but she watched him, and finally her keenmother-heart divined his malady. 

Auntie Flora had always been Gavin's instructor, and had led him alongthe way of good books and into a slight knowledge of music, AuntieJanet had been his playmate and confidante, the one with whom he hadalways shared his secrets and to whom he had confessed his boyishscrapes. But Auntie Elspie had been his mother, and she knew her boy. At first she thought the trouble arose over Christina and was bitterlydisappointed when the handsome young man from town had stepped in andruined all Gavin's hopes. But she knew he was too proud to grievelong, and he had laughed one night when Auntie Flora read him "TheManly Heart, " "Shall I, wasting in despair, die because a lady's fair?If she be not fair to me, what care I how fair she be?" and asked thatshe read it again. It was just right, he declared, and went aroundwhistling that evening. There must be something more than Christinatroubling him she concluded. And then she began to suspect the truth. Many little incidents helped to confirm her suspicions, and at last sherealised it beyond a doubt. Gavin was craving to be up and away intothe death struggle of the trenches!

The truth broke upon her with a thrill of mingled exultation anddismay. For the three gentle ladies who could not bear to contemplatethe possibility of Gavin's leaving them, were each secretly cherishinga longing to hear him express a desire to be away to the war, thedesire which he was so painfully smothering for their sakes. 

Hughie Reid, who was next of kin to the Grant girls, lived on the farmjust below Craig-Ellachie on the road to the village. He was a distantcousin, and a kindly man and the Aunties were always giving his wife ahand with her work and practically kept his boys in socks and mittens. His oldest boys were almost grown to manhood, and Hughie had often saidto Auntie Elspie, "If Gavin ever wants to quit farming, Elspie, I'll take Craig-Ellachieon shares. I need a bit more land for my stock. " And Auntie Elspiehad always laughed at him, saying there was little fear of his evergetting it, for Gavie would never think of anything but the farm. Butthe night when Gavin's heart was laid bare before her, Auntie Elspieremembered Hughie's oft repeated wish and made a great and nobleresolve. 

She came to her dismaying conclusion concerning Gavin one evening afterhe had been to town. He was all unconscious of her loving espionageand had no idea that he was betraying himself. A Highland Battalionwas being raised in the County, called the Blue Bonnets. Recruitingagents were going all through the country, and at concert and teameeting the young people sang a gallant old Scottish song transcribedto suit the locality. 

 "March, March! Dalton and Anondell! Why my lads, dinna ye march forward in order? March, March! Greenwood and Orchard Glen, All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!"

Gavin had been to Algonquin and had heard it on every side, had seenboys in khaki marching down the street, and worse still, lads in kiltsswinging along, laughing and light-hearted. And he had fled home, interror lest some one accost him and ask him to join them. The liltinglines had set themselves to the jingle of his bells as he drovehomeward, and mile by mile he could hear nothing but

 "Trumpets are sounding, war steeds are bounding, Stand to your arms and march in good order. Germans shall many a day tell of the bloody fray When all the Blue Bonnets came over the Border!" "March! March!". .. 

He was very silent at supper that evening. He made an effort to beespecially kind and attentive, but he could not be merry. He could notchat about his visit to town and the doings there which the Auntieswere all eager to hear. For he had seen nothing but boys in kilts, swinging laughingly down the street, had heard nothing but the pipesand drums lilting "All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border!"

And all the while Auntie Elspie watched him closely, her heart sinking. 

When supper was over and they sat around the sitting room stove, AuntieFlora seated herself at the organ, thinking to cheer him. 

"Come away, Gavie dear, " she cried. "It's a long time since we hadsome music and I'm afraid you'll be forgettin' the fiddle altogether. Come away and we'll have a good old sing. "

He could not refuse, but said he would play if she would sing, and thenhe passed over all the old war-like favourites, "A Warrior Bold" and"Scots Wha Hae, " and asked instead for songs of peace, "CallerHerrin', " "Ye Banks and Braes, " "Silver Threads Among the Gold. "

"Sing 'A Warrior Bold' Gavie, " cried Auntie Janet, looking up from thesock she was knitting for Burke Wright, "Ye've no sung it for such along, long time. "

He made an excuse about not being able to sing it; it was too high forhim. 

"Ye haven't got a cold, have you, hinny?" she asked anxiously, and heanswered no, that he was quite well. 

Then Auntie Flora, all unconscious, opened all the stops of the littleorgan and burst into Bruce's deathless "Battle Hymn, " the welcome toall gallant souls to a gory bed or to victory. 

"Play it and sing it both, Gavie!" cried Auntie Janet joining her voicein, "Now's the day, and now's the hour!" But Gavin made a hurriedexcuse about seeing to the cattle, and hastily putting down his violinwent out quickly. Auntie Elspie saw his face as he passed and all herdoubts and with them her hopes vanished. She had suspected before; nowshe knew!

"I thought Gavie did all the chores, " said Auntie Flora, looking up asshe finished only the first stanza of the song. Auntie Elspie saidnothing. She bent over the hospital shirt she was sewing, as though tolook for a flaw in her work. She was winking away the tears that hersisters must not see. 

She put on an old coat of Gavin's and slipped out after him to the barn. 

She found there was little to do. He had recovered his composure, andscolded her lovingly for coming out in the cold. He had a momentarypicture of his Aunts' going out to the stable on sharp nights likethese to feed the cattle and bed the horses, and he tried to believe hewas glad he was not going. 

The next day at dinner Auntie Elspie remarked casually that she thoughtshe would take a run over to Hughie's and see if little Elspie wasbetter of her cold, and have a cup of tea with Hughie's wife. 

Gavin had an errand to Orchard Glen Mill, and on his way drove her overin the old box sleigh, promising to call for her early on his return. Auntie Janet had a few purchases she wanted him to make at the store inOrchard Glen, and when he had come back from the mill, Gavin tied hishorse and ran into the store. 

Marmaduke was sitting tilted back on a chair behind the stove makinglove to Tilly. Life had been but a dreary business for Duke sinceTrooper went to the war. Old Tory Brown and old Willie Henderson, whohad been bitter enemies ever since the disastrous day the Piper tookhis music to the wrong meeting, were sitting waiting for the mail onopposite sides of the stove. Mr. Holmes was slowly and carefullyputting the letters and papers into their proper compartments, at theback of the store, looking up over his spectacles as each newcomerentered. 

"Hello, Gavin, " called Marmaduke, "Cold day. Reg'lar Tory weatherwe're gettin' these days. "

"It'd be hot enough times if yous folks and Quebec was runnin' thecountry, " remarked old Tory Brown, while Mrs. Holmes, who had come into give a hand at distributing the mail, gave a warning before herdeparture into the house, "Now, Pa, don't let the folks talk politics. It's bad enough to have our boys goin' to the war without havin' war athome. "

Tilly ran forward and took Gavin's list and began to put up hisparcels. She stopped to stare out of the frosty window as a smartcutter dashed up to the store veranda. A portly gentleman in theuniform of a Major stepped out of it. He was not an unfamiliar figurein the locality, having been through the country for some time raisingrecruits for The Blue Bonnets. Major Harrison was not very successfulin his dealings with men, but if he had little influence at home he hadplenty at Ottawa and was sure of his position. 

"Here comes Lord Kitchener, " remarked Marmaduke. "Better take a goodlook at him, Tilly. He'll maybe be goin' to the Front in a year or so, and you won't see him for a while. "

Mr. Holmes looked over his glasses, a flash of appreciation in hiseyes. Since Tommy had gone to the Front his father was on the lookoutfor any one who stayed behind under the shelter of a khaki uniform andMajor Harrison was said to belong to that rapidly growing unit. 

"Look out, Duke, " he warned. "He's a great persuader, he'll have youin The Blue Bonnets before you know what's happened you. "

A joyous resolution suddenly shone in Marmaduke's eyes. He quicklyconcealed his peg leg behind a barrel, and leaning back, the picture ofidleness, he drummed on the floor with his one good foot and whistled, "It's a Long Way to Tipperary. "

The Major swung open the door and marched in, followed by his bat man. He had been but an indifferent business man on a small salary before hefell upon the fat days of war, but now he had a servant and a positionof authority. 

"Good-day, Mr. Holmes, " he cried heartily. "Good-day, Miss Tilly, you're looking as lovely as ever, I see. "

Tilly gasped and giggled and took refuge in questioning Gavin as towhether it was number forty or fifty white spool his Aunt wanted. 

"Good-day, sir, " cried Marmaduke heartily, suspending his musicalperformance for a moment. "Glad to see you. Heard you were gone tothe Front. Glad to see it's a false alarm again. "

"_But my heart's right there, _" he added tunefully, keeping time on thetop of a barrel with his fingers. 

"How's things going in the Army, Major Harrison?" put in Mr. Holmes, seeing the Major looking slightly annoyed. 

"The Army's growing, " answered the officer, pulling off his gloves andspreading his cold hands over the stove. 

"We just need a few more young fellows like you've got hanging roundthis corner, and we'll have the Germans driven back to Berlin inanother month or so. "

He looked around him sharply. "This is a war where no young chapthat's got red blood in his veins can stay at home. " He glancedmeaningly from Gavin to Marmaduke. 

Gavin was one of Marmaduke's warmest friends and he did not enjoy thethought of the Major worrying him. He attempted to draw the fire tohimself. 

"Some folks round here claims to have blue blood, though, " he remarkedwith a guilelessness that would have misled a German Spy. Heaccomplished his object; the Major looked down at him. 

"If their claims are true they won't be here long, my friend, " he saidemphatically, but he turned to Gavin again. 

"Come along, young man, and let me put you down for The Blue Bonnets. It's the finest Battalion that's going overseas, and we've room foronly a few more. I believe you're Scotch, aren't you? What's yourname?"

"Grant, Gavin Grant. "

"Grant! Why, you're the very fellow I'm looking for! Come along andget into a kilt, man. What's a fellow by the name of Grant doing athome when there's a war on? Wouldn't you like to go over and smash theGermans, now?"

Gavin looked at him dumbly. It was as if a lost soul were being askedif it would like to enter Paradise. 

"Well, what's keeping you?" asked the Major impatiently. 

"I--I can't leave the farm and my Aunts, " he stammered. 

"Pshaw, you're not tied to your Auntie's apron string, are you? Everyfellow I ask to enlist in this part of the country has got either anaunt or a grandmother or a second cousin----"

"I'm worse off than that, " interrupted Marmaduke, seeing that Gavin wasin misery, "I've got a--" His voice dropped to a confidentialwhisper, --"A _girl_!"

The Major looked at him sharply, but Marmaduke was a perfect picture ofrural simplicity. 

"You're not married are you?" he asked shortly, glancing at Tilly, whohad forgotten all about Gavin's purchases and was staring at the smartofficer in open-mouthed admiration. 

"Well, not, --that is, " Duke hesitated in evident painful embarrassment, "well, we're not married yet, but we expect very soon, --" He turned alanguishing look upon Tilly, and indicated her to the Major with a jerkof his thumb over his shoulder. "You wouldn't have a fellow go andleave his girl now, would you?"

Tilly went off into a spasm of hysterical giggles and denials, and theshoulders of the two old men beside the stove began to heave withsuppressed laughter. 

"Oh, well, you're not married yet, " cried the Major briskly. "You comealong and enlist in our Highland Battalion. What's your name?"

"Timothy O'Toole, " said Marmaduke shamelessly, "and I'll go in noHighland gang, I'd nivir do at all at all among them outlandishspalpeens with their bare legs; Tilly wouldn't like it, " he addedmodestly. 

"Pshaw! Everybody knows that half the Highland regiments in theBritish Army are Irish. Enlist first and you can get married after. Every girl admires the khaki, eh, Miss Holmes?"

Tilly was hanging on to the counter by this time, too far gone to beable to enlighten the Major as to the truth, while her father wasstanding with a bunch of letters in his hand, a pleased smile on hisface. Nobody minded Duke's nonsense and he dearly loved to see thesecity fellows taken down a button hole or two. 

"No sir, " cried Duke firmly, "no Highland Battalion for me. I'm goin'over wearin' o' the Grane or nothing at all. Besides my Bittalionain't goin' yet for a while. I was askin' some of them high-upofficers in Algonquin and they were tellin' me not to be in any hurry. You see, " he added confidingly, "it's this way. You can gettransferred. If you're in a Bittalion that's goin' over you gettransferred to another, and when it goes you get transferred again. Ican let you in on the thing if you'd like to know how they do it, " headded with ingratiating generosity. 

The Major's face flamed hot. It was no secret that he had been goingthrough the transferring process. Red anger leaped into his eyes. 

"Aw, what's the matter with you?" he asked, dropping his suave mannerand becoming abusive. "Are you one of those yellow-livered chapsthat's got chronic cold feet?"

"Well, " said Marmaduke ingenuously, "it ain't quite so bad as that. I've got one cold foot though, but I s'pose that wouldn't keep me out. I guess a wooden leg wouldn't matter any more than a wooden head wouldit?" And straight in the air he held his peg leg up to view. 

The long pent up amusement of the audience burst forth. The two oldenemies across the stove broke into a simultaneous upheaval, adisturbance that filled up the breach between them with the loose earthof laughter. Mr. Holmes dropped his letters and chuckled loudly, andas for Tilly, she was past giggling, she fairly shouted. 

The Major turned and walked out, his face white with anger. 

"He's gone to get transferred to the Five-Hundredth, " declared TimothyO'Toole joyfully. "I hear that Canada's goin' to send over FiveHundred Battalions and he'll be all ready for the last one. "

"Ah, Duke, Duke, you're a rascal, " said Mr. Holmes reprovingly. 

"It's the only fun I can get out o' this business of stayin' at home, "declared Duke, his face growing grave, "and I guess I need all that'scomin' to me with Trooper and the other fellows away fightin' for me!"

Gavin could not join the laughter. He was too deeply hurt. Hegathered up his parcels and hurried away; and once more the bells setthemselves to the tune of "Blue Bonnets" and played "March, March, Why, ma lads, dinna' ye March Forward in Order?" as he drove home. 

Auntie Elspie was talking to Hughie Reid in deep conference when Gavinarrived at the farm, and on the way home she was so silent, that he wasworried over her. 

"You're not cold, are you, Auntie Elspie?" he asked for the third time, as he tucked the old sheep skin robe around her. 

"No, no, lad, I'm not cold, " she said, but she shivered as she said it. It was not the blustering February wind that chilled, but the cold handthat seemed closing round her heart, the knowledge that now it waspossible for Gavin to go and that soon she must tell him. She put offthe evil day. She could not tell him to-night, she felt, but perhapson the morrow. 

As they were sitting down to their early supper and the February sunsetwas turning all the white fields to a glory of rose and gold, a bigsleigh-load of merry young folk came jingling down the glittering roadand swept past the house with a storm of bell-music. There was a goodWinter road here across their sheltered valley and through the swamp toDalton's Corners and the Orchard Glen Choir was taking its musical waythither. They were singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary, " and AuntieJanet, young as any of them, ran to the door and waved to them, whileBruce and Wallace and Prince and Bonnie bounded out barking madly. ButGavin did not go near the door nor look after them. He suspectedChristina would be there, and most likely Wallace Sutherland and theirgay company was not for him. 

"You ought to be going with them, Gavie, lad, " cried Auntie Janet, coming in with a rush of fresh air. "Listen, they're singin': 'All theBlue Bonnets are over the Border!' now! Eh, isn't it bonnie?"

Auntie Elspie's loving eyes were watching Gavin, and her sinking hearttold her she must soon do something to put an end to his misery. 

He went to his bed early that night, before they could ask him to sing, but he could not sleep. He heard Auntie Janet and Auntie Flora come upthe creaking old stairs together, talking in whispers lest they disturbhim. They shared a room at the end of the hall and Auntie Elspie'sroom was opposite his. It was quite late when finally he heard hercome up to bed. But yet he could not sleep. His window-blind wasrolled to the top and the moonlight flooded his room. Outside thediamond-spangled earth lay still and frost bound. Craig-Ellachie stoodout white, silver-crowned, against the blue of the forest. Gavinraised himself on his elbow and looked out at the silent beauty of thenight. The great white expanse seemed calling to him to come away anddo as his fellow heroes were doing. He ought to be lying in a freezingtrench, grasping a rifle instead of skulking in a feather bed wrappedin warm blankets. But indeed the bed had become a very rack to poorGavin, the blankets smothered him. He tossed from side to side, vainlyseeking relief. 

Suddenly he sat up in bed, holding his breath to listen. The greatglittering space of the outdoor world had taken voice and was cryingout against him for not playing the man. From far across the silversheen of the fields, clear and piercing, came the words, "By oppression's woes and pains, By our sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurper low; Tyrants fall in every foe; Liberty's in every blow; Let us do--or die!"

Gavin sprang from his bed and flung on his clothes madly. He had awild notion that he must run out to the road and shout aloud to theworld that he was coming, coming to the battle-front! When he wasdressed he ran to the window and threw it up and his madness departedfrom him. It was only the gay sleigh-load returning from the Daltontea-meeting. They swept past the house, setting his dogs barkingmadly, and the song died away as they disappeared down the glitteringsilver road. Gavin leaned far out of the window; his burning facestung by the cold air. 

"Stand fast, Craig-Ellachie!" he whispered through his clenched teeth. The hot tears came smarting to his eyes, and he suddenly drew back, ashamed of his weakness. He closed the window, remembering even in hismisery to do it quietly so as not to disturb the dear ones who weresleeping. He still knelt on at the window watching the shining trackwhere the song of deathless liberty was fading away. 

But there was a pair of loving ears near, that had heard all Gavin'smovements. Auntie Elspie slept in the room opposite his, and eversince the night he had developed the whooping cough she had kept herdoor ajar and that was the reason she knew that her boy had not beensleeping well for many a night. And to-night she lay awake listeningto the incessant creak of his old roped bed, and sharing his misery. She knew she could not bear it much longer, she must rise and tell himhe was free. And then she heard him bounding from his bed, and thenotes of the song as it swept gloriously past and died away. 

She rose from her bed and lit the lamp. She dressed herself fully, forshe knew there was no more sleep for her that night. She was tremblingfrom head to foot, and praying for strength to carry out her heavytask. She had something of the feeling of the patriarch when theimperative Voice called, "Take now thy son, thine only son, Isaac, whomthou lovest, and offer him for a burnt offering. " She dropped on herknees before her bed. She knelt a long time, and then, strengthened, obedient to the Voice that summons all great souls, she rose and walkedinto Gavin's room. 

Gavin was still kneeling by the window when she entered. His hair, touched by the moonlight, was soft and wavy, he looked very young andgrief-stricken. For a moment the vision of him lying wounded andhelpless in a trench, uncared for, shook her brave resolve. A greatlump rose in her throat. She braced herself and said softly, "Gavin, Laddie!"

Gavin leaped to his feet. "Auntie Elspie!" he cried in amazement, hiseyes dazzled by the light, "why, you are dressed! You're not sick?" hecried anxiously, taking the lamp from her hand. 

"No, no, " she said; "I'm jist all right. Put the lamp down, hinny, Iwant to talk with you. " She sat down on the edge of his bed and heplaced the lamp on his high old dresser and came and sat beside herwonderingly. 

"I couldn't help hearing you tossing about. You're not sleepin', Gavie, you're worryin', lad. "

"No, no, Auntie Elspie, " he cried hastily, "I'm all right, I'm notsick. You go back to bed, do. You'll catch cold. "

But the woman only gazed at him mournfully. "Eh, eh, hinny, I ken allabout it, " she whispered, lapsing into broader Scotch in her agitation. "Ye can't hide things from your Auntie Elspie. Ye're wearyin' to beaway to the war, I ken as well as if ye telled me. "

There was a wail in her voice that wrung Gavin's heart. "Oh, AuntieElspie, " he cried, "oh, no, no! I'll never leave you. I'll not begoing. I'm not wearying. I know what my duty is; and it's here athome with you. " He was repeating his assurance incoherently, when shestopped him. 

"Gavie, there's no need to tell your Auntie Elspie that you would doall that is in your power for us. I ken you've kept silence all thesemonths for fear of giving us pain. But I've been watching you, and Iguessed what ailed you. And it is what we would have, Gavie. We wouldnot have you want to stay at home while others go to die for us to saveour homes and lives. And indeed it's proud I am this night, even if myheart is sore--sore----"

She broke down a moment, and again Gavin firmly declared his decision. He could not deny he wanted to go to the Front he confessed, but maybeit was just a foolish love of adventure and it did not interfere withthe fact that he was needed at home. 

"So I'll jist stay here, Auntie Elspie, " he repeated, "I am neededhere, and I would be ashamed to turn my back on you. I couldn't behappy knowing you needed me, and I wasn't here to take care of you all. "

And so they argued the matter far into the night, Auntie Elspieinsisting that he should go, and the boy declaring that he would not. She was reinforced shortly by her sisters. Auntie Flora had heard thelow rumble of voices and had seen the light in Gavin's room. Shewakened Janet, and fearing that Gavin's strange conduct had culminatedin an attack of some real illness, the two anxious old ladies hurriedlyflung on some clothes and went down the hall to Gavin's room. Andthere they found a strange scene, Elspie urging Gavin to enlist, andGavin holding back and declaring that nothing would induce him to go tothe war!

It was the look in his two younger Aunts' eyes, when the case wasexplained to them, that first shook Gavin's resolution. Auntie Florastood up tall and stately, and her face flushed proudly as she turnedto Janet. "What did I tell ye!" she cried triumphantly, "I knew hewanted to go!" And Auntie Janet burst into tears, and hiding her facein the old shawl she had thrown round her shoulders she sobbed, "Aye, and I said it, too. I knew ye couldn't be the kind that would want tostay at home, Gavie. " And Gavin comforted them in a state ofspeechless wonder. It appeared that after all they had been waitingfor him to express a desire to go and that their pride was quite equalto their grief!

CHAPTER XIII

"THE PLIGHTED RING"

Jimmie came home from school on Friday evening bounding in full of news. 

"Say, who do you s'pose's gone and enlisted from Orchard Glen now?" hedemanded indignantly of Christina, who was preparing supper in thebright, warm kitchen. 

"Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, " suggested his sister. But Jimmie was in no moodfor a joke. Each new enlistment from the community was to him apersonal injury. 

"More unlikely than that!" he growled, throwing his heavy bag of booksin the corner, and his wet mittens behind the stove, "it's Gavin Grant, that's who it is. "

Christina stopped in the operation of taking a pan of hot biscuits fromthe oven. "Gavin Grant! Why! Are you sure, Jimmie?"

"Course I'm sure. I saw him in town to-day. He's joined the BlueBonnets, and they're going to Camp Borden, and I tell you it just makesa fellow sick, that's what it does!"

Jimmie did not explain just why Gavin's joining the army should havesuch an effect upon his health and Christina paid no heed to hiscomplaint. She was completely taken by surprise. If there was a youngman in Orchard Glen who had a good excuse for staying at home surelythat young man was Gavin. And yet he was going, when it would be soeasy to remain. She was not long left to wonder over him. Her motherbrought home the whole story of Gavin's struggle from his proud andgrief-stricken Aunts the very next day. Elspie Grant had come over tooffer sympathy when her sons left her for the battle-field and MaryLindsay could not rest until she had done the same for her old friend. So as next day was Saturday, Jimmie took her over to Craig-Ellachie inthe cutter. 

She came home filled with the story of the long time Gavin had beenyearning to go, but had remained silent for his Aunts' sake, how he wasmaking every preparation for their comfort in his absence, how brave hewas, and how proud they were of him, even though it was breaking theirthree old hearts to see him go. 

Christina listened to the recital in ever-deepening humiliation. Sheremembered how she had been disgusted with Gavin when he fled frombefore Piper Lauchie's wrath, and how full of admiration she had beenfor Wallace Sutherland's courage. She had played the part of a sillygirl who could not see the character under the thin covering ofappearances. Her humiliation was not made lighter by the remembrancethat Wallace had given no smallest hint of a desire to enlist. 

There was nothing else talked of at the Red Cross rooms the next day. Mrs. Sutherland was quite severe in her condemnation of Gavin for goingand leaving a farm and three helpless women who had brought him up andgiven him his chance in the world. 

"It is his plain duty to stay at home, " she said distinctly. "It isnothing but a desire for adventure that is taking many of our young menaway, when they are needed here to work the land. No young man with afarm should be allowed to enlist. "

This was too much for Mrs. Johnnie Dunn, of course, and she proceededto rid herself of the burden of it. 

"Well, my stars!" she declared loudly, her needle flying in and out intime to her words, "I would rather get down on my marrow bones andscrub for my living if I was the Grant Girls than keep a young man athome. Gavin Grant's duty ain't at home any more than Trooper's is. The Grant Girls'll never want. Hughie Reid is just a brother to them, and he's to work the farm. And the Grant Girls are as well fixed asany folks in this Hall. And let me ask yous folks what good ourfarms'll be to us when the Germans gets here. Just tell me that, now?"

As usual, the Prime Minister had silenced the Monarch, and the lattertook refuge in a royal and dignified silence that ignored the noisyusurper. 

"Christina, my dear, " Mrs. Sutherland said, "will you be so good as tofetch me another skein of this sweater-coat yarn from the storeroom?"Christina went obediently, inwardly hot and raging. She wanted to rushin by The Woman's side and stand up for Gavin and tell how chivalrousand brave he really was. But how ridiculous she would look speaking upto Wallace's mother in that fashion. And yet, it seemed as if some onehad cast a reflection upon Sandy so much did it annoy her. 

She was unpacking the desired article from a bale, hidden by a pile ofsupplies which The Woman had brought out the evening before, whenvoices from the other side of the barrier reached her. 

"She won't stay President long, I bet. " It was Tilly's voice andTilly's giggle accompanied it. "She's started now to talk like the warwas wrong and young men shouldn't go. "

"Everybody knows it's all because Wallace won't go, " answered BellBrown. "Pa says Dr. McGarry won't speak at any more recruitin'meetings nor anything because he's so ashamed. "

"I don't see how Christine Lindsay. .. " But Christina had tiptoed outof her ambush and escaped into the main room with the yarn, her cheeksburning, her eyes unnaturally bright. 

Gavin went to camp at Niagara but was allowed to come back to work hisfarm for a month in the Summer. The Grant Girls were as happy to havehim again as if he had returned from the war, and with youth's happydisregard of the future, they set themselves to have the gayest Summerthat had ever shone down upon Craig-Ellachie, and folks who went theresaid there never was such fun as they had round the supper table withGavin giving his Aunts' military orders and they obeying them withmilitary precision. 

Christina would have given much to be one of those guests. She wantedto show Gavin before he went that she admired his spirit, and was gladhe wanted to go. But she felt diffident about going to Craig-Ellachie, and she shrewdly guessed that Gavin would never ask her. 

She saw him only at church, and how proudly the Aunties walked down theaisle with Gavin in his Highland Uniform to show them to their seat andsit at the end of the pew. And indeed they could scarcely keep theireyes off him during the service, and a fine sight he was to be sure, inhis trim khaki coat and his gay kilt. And the worry had all gone fromhis face and he was his old smiling kindly self. He was too busy tocome to any of the village festivities and Christina had no opportunityto speak to him except as he came down the church aisle. And thoughthe other girls crowded around him she stood aloof, so strangely shyshe had become of Gavin. 

Joanna and the other girls decided the young people must give Gavin asend-off such as had been given to all the boys and so they planned fora gathering on an evening when he came home for the last leave, andPresbyterians, Methodists and Baptists once more joined amicably in acommon cause. But Gavin was not to have the privilege of receiving apublic farewell, a circumstance that suited him well, for he haddreaded anything that would drag him into public notice. 

For one dark Autumn day, when the last blossom of the Grant Girls'garden had drooped before the frost, the Blue Bonnets were suddenlycalled to go overseas. Gavin had come home just the night before for aweek-end leave, and a telegram summoned him to rejoin his Battalion atonce. There was a great stir at Craig-Ellachie. Hughie Reid hurriedover as soon as the news reached him, and he sent one of his boys tofetch Mrs. Johnnie Dunn to help the Aunties through their trial, andHughie himself got out his Ford car to take Gavin to Algonquin to catchthe midnight train for Toronto. 

The weather seemed to be in accord with the hearts of the threebereaved old women, a cold rain came sweeping across the hills just asnight fell and Gavin drove away from his old home and the loving armsthat would have held him, into the storm and darkness, and the light ofCraig-Ellachie went out with him. 

Christina had not heard of Gavin's sudden call, and while he wasdriving away in the wind and rain, she was sitting by the fire windinga skein of yarn which Wallace Sutherland was holding. 

The sitting room was warm and bright, and had many pretty femininetouches, and there were plenty of easy chairs and cushions that Maryhad contributed from time to time. The soft-shaded lamp-light fell onChristina's bright hair as she bent over her yarn. Her mother had goneto bed early, they were alone and Wallace was watching Christina fromhis luxurious seat on the big deep sofa, in perfect content. The windhowled around the corners of the old house, and the rain lashed thewindow panes, but the comfort of the bright sitting-room andChristina's presence were only made more delightful by the contrast. 

Wallace sank down deeper into the sofa. He was in his happiest mood. He had worked quite steadily all Summer and had been so successful inthe process of "Showing Uncle William" that that unreasonable oldperson had written quite a reasonable letter to his brother, sayingthat, maybe there was something in the young cub after all, and that ifhe really succeeded in demonstrating that he was good for something, even if it was only feeding the pigs, he, Uncle William, might beinclined to pay him a visit, etc. , etc. It was that etc. That soraised Wallace's spirits. He knew Uncle William, oh, right down to theground, he declared, and had no hesitation in assuring Christina thatif everything went all right with his stock this Winter, Uncle Williamwas his to do as he pleased with. He was very happy, and expectedChristina to rejoice with him. She was naturally gay and ready tofollow a merry lead, and Wallace enjoyed her companionship more thanany one he had known for that very reason. But he could not deny thatfor some time she had not been such a good comrade. She had to make aneffort to-night to help him be gay over Uncle William's completeundoing. She tried to be interested as he told all his good fortune, but was just a little relieved when John came in for a few minutes andbegan talking politics. 

She went to the kitchen for a plate of apples, leaving them discussingthe Minister of Militia, and was taking down a plate from the high oldcupboard in the kitchen, when she heard a sound as if some one werefumbling at the door. The big kitchen was empty, the damp day had beenbad for Uncle Neil's rheumatism, and he had gone to bed early, it wasalmost too late for a visitor, and thinking it might be only the wind, Christina put down her plate and went to look if the outside porch doorwere slamming. 

She threw open the door and the rain and wind whirled in her face, andout of the wet and the darkness emerged a tall figure in a long khakiovercoat and a Highland bonnet. The bonnet came off immediately, andthe soldier said in a soft Highland accent, "Good evening, Christine. "

"Oh, Gavin, " she cried in surprise, and a sudden unreasonable joy. "Isit really you? Come away in. Are you wet?"

But Gavin still stood in the doorway. "No, I cannot come in, " he saidhurriedly; "Hughie is waiting for me at the gate. He is taking me intoAlgonquin. "

Christina looked past him into the darkness. "To Algonquin! Oh, Gavin, you're not called away are you?"

"Yes, the Battalion is ordered to Halifax, we will likely be sailing atonce. I did not know till this morning; and I--" his voice dropped toa whisper, "I just couldn't go away without saying good-bye to you, Christine. "

A gust of wind swayed Christina's skirts, and Gavin stepped inside andclosed the door, but stood holding the latch. 

"And your poor Aunties!" cried Christina. She was angry with herselfthe moment she said it, for a look of anguish passed quickly overGavin's face. 

"They are very brave, " he said simply. He paused, there was silence inthe big warm kitchen. 

"Won't you come in, just a minute, and say good-bye to John?" askedChristina. "Mother and Uncle Neil are gone to bed, but--"

"No, I have no time to-night, but I could not go without seeing you, just once, and saying good-bye, " he whispered. 

Christina's eyes suddenly stung with tears. "Oh, Gavin, " she faltered, "I--I don't deserve it. "

He shook his head to indicate that she was wrong, and again silencefell. Gavin glanced at his wrist watch. She noticed that hisawkwardness had disappeared under his military training, he heldhimself with a new dignified bearing. "I must not be keeping you, " hesaid, but it seemed as if he could not go. He stood looking down ather and she could not mistake the look in Gavin's eyes. Her own fellbefore them. 

"Oh, " she managed to whisper, "I have always wanted to tell you that Ithink it is so brave and so grand of you to go, and, . .. Oh, I hopeyou'll come back safe, " she ended, faltering, and Gavin still stoodunable to speak and looked at her as if he could never take his eyesaway. 

The loud, slow tick of the old clock marked off the minutes. 

Suddenly Gavin put his fingers under the collar of his coat. "Couldyou--would you mind taking this as a little keepsake?" he whispered, handing her the regimental pin of the Blue Bonnets. She took it withgrateful thanks. 

And then a sudden impulse came to her. 

"But, I ought to give you something in return. "

She looked up and down her dress. She wore no ornament but anold-fashioned brooch of her mother's fastening the throat of her softblue dress. "I haven't anything, " she said helplessly. She followedGavin's eyes that were fastened on her left hand. 

"Could you spare me that?" he whispered. It was a little old ring, onethat Allister had sent her before he came home for his first visit, just plain gold with her initials carved on it. Christina slipped itoff her finger eagerly. 

"Oh, it's just a poor little, old thing, Gavin, but I'd be so proud tohave it go to the war, " she cried. He took it, his face radiant. 

"Oh, " he cried, "I ought not to have asked you. I was too bold, perhaps, I shouldn't--perhaps--he, --wouldn't like it?"

Christina's face flamed. "There is no one who has any right to saywhat I should do, " she said with sudden boldness. 

Gavin's face lit up. He slipped the ring on his little finger. Itwould hardly go on, but he managed it. A line of the old song he hadsung flashed through Christina's mind as he did it, something about theplighted ring the warrior wore, being crushed and wet with gore. 

"Oh, Gavin, " she whispered, the tears welling up into her eyes, "Godbless you, and bring you home safe again. "

A sharp whistle sounded from the gate where Hughie Reid was waitingimpatiently in the rain. Gavin started as if from a dream. He heldout his hand. "Good-bye, Christine, " he whispered, "you won't forgetme, will you?"

Christina put her hand into his. She shook her head; she could notanswer. He was going away, perhaps to his death, and she had not aword for him, and yet he was leaving her deliberately to another at thecall of duty. Her heart was in a tumult of grief and self-abasement. She could only stand and look up at him, her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling, and the next moment, Gavin had stooped, with thesudden boldness of a shy man, and kissed her. 

And then the door was flung open and shut again, and he was gone intothe storm and darkness, and Christina was left standing motionless, gazing at the closed door. 

It was a long time before she found courage to return to thesitting-room. Her heart was throbbing with grief and at the same timea wild exultation that she could not understand and had no time toanalyze. She did not even attempt to answer Wallace's raillery as tothe length of time she had been away, or John's as to why she hadstayed in the cellar long enough to eat all the apples which she foundshe had forgotten to bring. The event had been too stupendous for herto come down to the commonplace. And at last Wallace grew just alittle piqued over her absent-minded air and went home early very muchto Christina's relief. 

It was the week after Gavin had gone out into the storm and Christinawas still going about in a sort of daze, with feelings stillunanalyzed, when she remembered that Friday would be Jimmie'seighteenth birthday. Jimmie should have been through school, but hehad done that disgraceful thing that, so far, no Lindsay had ever done;he had failed in his examinations the Summer before. Had it not beenfor the boys' going to war, the great event that absorbed the mind ofthe family, Jimmie might have fared badly. As it was he received asolemn warning from John, and went back to school in the Fall veryunwillingly. 

"Life is so queer, " Christina was constrained to say. "I was alwaysdying to go to school and couldn't, and Jimmie is dying to stay out ofit and can't. "

"It's Allister's money that's spoiled the silly kid, " grumbled John. "That and the war. I tell you, Christina, we always thought it was adreadful misfortune to be poor, and wished we had money, but I ambeginning to think that we ought to thank the Lord that we have had todo without. Jimmie has never done very well at school just because ithas been made easy for him to there. "

"I'm afraid Allister's money is not likely to do any of us much moreharm, anyway, " Christina said to herself, remembering another ratherdespondent letter from him. She could not quite agree with John thatmoney was not a very good thing to have. It would have opened for herthe road to the college halls, but it had been denied. And yet she wasnot unhappy. Something sang in her heart these days, the memory of acertain farewell at the back door in the wind and the rain anddarkness, a memory that was all light and glory. 

But Jimmie was still unsettled and dissatisfied with school, andChristina said that she would please him by making him a birthday cake. She would ice it with plenty of thick almond paste, his favourite, andput his initials on it and the date. It was a very handsome andtempting confection indeed, when she put it on the pantry shelf in asecluded spot where he would not see it until the right moment arrived. 

The kitchen was still filled with its spicy fragrance when there came aquick footfall in the porch and a knock at the door. Christina openedit to meet a slim young soldier who strode into the room and salutedsmartly. She stood looking at him in stupefied silence for a moment, and then she dropped upon a chair and put her head down on the kitchentable. 

"Oh, Jimmie! Oh, Jimmie!" she sobbed. "How could you?"

But the new recruit caught her round the waist and waltzed her acrossthe room, and then, snatching the butcher-knife from the table, hepresented arms and saluted and posed all in such an absurd fashion thatin spite of her grief she smiled. 

"Go right back into the shed till I tell mother, " she exclaimed, "shemustn't see you till she has had warning. "

Jimmie went out and hid himself, just a little subdued. Evidently hisgallant act, the thing that everybody had admired in Trooper, had takenon a different colour when performed by him. 

He had little opportunity to reflect upon his act. There was hardlytime for sorrow before Jimmie was gone; he had been put in a draft fora Battalion already in England and to his huge delight he was sentoverseas almost immediately. It seemed as if this, her baby's going, was almost more than Mrs. Lindsay could bear, and Christina was moreand more called upon to be a comforter and a bearer of burdens. 

It was not the fear of gas nor bomb nor German bullet that keptJimmie's mother wakeful at night, but the pestilence that walked indarkness, waylaying the souls of young men. Terrible tales of braveboys falling before an enemy more to be dreaded than all thefrightfulness of the Hun came back to Canada. It was this living Deaththat stalked through the camps of England, and behind the lines inFrance and Flanders, that made the mother's heart sick with fear. 

As she watched her mother's silent suffering, Christina's soul began, again, to ask questions. What was the meaning of that psalm thatGrandpa had read when Sandy and Neil went way, and, later, when Jimmieleft? Did it mean anything? And if it did, why could it not bringcomfort to her mother's sorely-tried heart?

Through all the days of Christina's loneliness and anxiety there was noone so kind to her as Wallace's mother. Mrs. Sutherland made a pointof selecting Christina for her special helper at Red Cross meetings, and Christina could not but notice the significance of her attentions. 

"You are such a comfort, Christine, " she declared one day when the girlhanded her back a sock with a dropped stitch deftly picked up. "Yourmother is a fortunate woman. I wish I had a daughter like you!"

Christina's cheeks grew scarlet, and she was thankful that the clatterof sewing machines and the noise of Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's orders securedthem from being overheard. 

But indeed, she could not shut her eyes to the fact that all eventspointed in the direction so prettily indicated, again and again, byWallace's mother. Wallace was succeeding beyond his own expectations, and Uncle William was growing more lamb-like every day. The road tosuccess had surely opened out for Christina. Her Dream Knight hadridden up to her very door. He was possessed of a fine house, andbroad acres, and had prospects of great wealth. He was handsome andgay and debonair, and what more could any human girl ask?

And in the face of all this grand good fortune that unreasonableChristina Lindsay was more dissatisfied and restless than she had everbeen in all her life. She reasoned with herself and scolded herselfall to no avail. That foolish heart of hers, that had always got inthe way of her worldly prospects, was standing stubbornly right in thevery highway of success. 

Here was the great opportunity of her life, such prospects as mightdazzle any Orchard Glen girl, and its glory was all blotted out by thememory of a tall figure in a khaki coat, coming suddenly out of thewind and rain of a dark night. Wallace had sat by Christina's sidethat night in the warmth and shelter of the fireside, but thoughChristina did not quite realise it yet, her heart had gone out into thestorm after Gavin, and could never come back. It was still followinghim over the perils of the high seas and into the blood and carnage ofthe battlefield, and it valued farms and stock and fine houses lessthan the dust. 

And so Christina was more dissatisfied than she had ever been in herlife, and she lay awake nights wondering what she should do, and howshe could possibly extricate herself from the impossible position inwhich she found herself. 

And to make matters worse or better, she did not know which, Gavinwrote to her, and she wrote him long letters in reply. And she grewinto the habit of running over the hills to Craig-Ellachie to cheer theGrant Girls, and, of course, they talked of their soldier-hero all thetime, and of nothing else. 

The Aunties literally lived by his letters. Everything was dated bythem. 

"We started yon crock o' butter jist the day Gavie's first letter camefrom France, " Auntie Janet would say. "It's time it was finished. "

"Gavie's letter was a bit late this week, " they announced at anothertime, "so we didn't start the ironin' till it came. It jist seemed asif we couldn't settle down. "

Gavin's letters were certainly worth waiting for, Christina had toconfess. He wrote much easier than he spoke, and his happiness inbeing permitted to write to her at all filled them with a quiet humour. Christina's eyes searched them just a little wistfully for any hint ofthe feeling he had displayed in his farewell. But there was none. Gavin was too much the true gentleman to presume on that parting. Hetold her he had the little ring safe, and that it was his most preciouspossession, but beyond that he did not refer to that last evening. There was never a hint of hardship, even after he reached the Front, and was in many a desperate encounter. It was only all joy that he wasable to be in the struggle for right. He had just one anxiety and thatwas lest his Aunts be lonely, and he wondered if she would be so goodas to comfort them just a little when she could. 

And Christina wrote him long letters in return and felt like a criminalin her double dealing. She knew she was wrong but she could not make adecision. On the one hand was all that she could hope this world couldoffer, and on the other nothing but a true and gallant heart. She wasangry and ashamed of herself and very restless, and withal, in spite ofherself, quite unreasonably happy. 

Mary had been writing all Winter urging her to come for a little visit, and see Hughie Junior, who was a marvellous baby, with wonderful featsto his credit that no human baby had ever yet performed. But Christinaput the tempting invitations aside, feeling she must not leave hermother in her deep anxiety. 

And then there came letters from overseas that brought a wonderfulrelief from her mother's worry, and lightened greatly the burdens ofthe night. 

For many and many a night her mother sat sleepless by her window, looking up at the stars that hung above her home and that also watchedabove her soldier sons. She had no fears for Neil, a thousand mightfall at his side and ten thousand at his right hand, but it would notcome nigh him. And Sandy, --Sandy was honest, and true, and as fine alad as marched in the Canadian Army, but he was young and careless andgay, and how did she know what temptations might assail him? And therewas Jimmie! Night after night she lay awake, thinking of Jimmie, praying and agonising for him. He was so young, such a big overgrownbaby, how could he come through unscathed?

And then there came from France this great relief from her dread. Jimmie's draft had reached England and Neil had managed to get himselftransferred to Jimmie's Battalion. It was going to France immediately, and France was safer than England, Neil wrote, from certain kinds ofdangers. And his mother was not to worry, for he had Jimmie rightbeside him and he would look after the boy and see that no harm couldcome to him. And Sandy wrote that Neil had refused a chance to takethe officer's course and a Commission, because he would not leaveJimmie. 

Full of joy and gratitude, Christina watched her mother's eyes growbright again, and so she left Mitty in charge of her many affairs andtook the train for a week's visit to Port Stewart. 

Mary's house was as pretty as ever, but had lost much of its immaculatetidiness. For Hughie Lindsay MacGillivray's wardrobe and appointmentsoverflowed into every room. But Hughie himself was all he had beenreported and more, and Christina fell down and worshipped his appleblossom face and his dimples at the first sight. 

"And tell me all about Wallace Sutherland, " demanded Mary, betweenraptures. "Isn't it grand that he's doing such fine things with theFord place. Why, Christine, you'll be a wealthy woman some day!"

"Oh, hush!" cried Christina in distress. "Why, Mary, I haven't evenbeen asked to live at the Ford place yet, and it's positively shamelessto talk about, about anything, yet!"

"Nonsense!" laughed the practical Mary. "You know perfectly well thatWallace is in love with you, and that you are as good as engaged. "

"He is not! I am not!" denied Christina excitedly. "Don't you talklike that, Mary, I--I can't bear it--"

"Why, Christine, why, mercy! I didn't mean anything!" cried Mary, alarmed and amazed at the sight of tears in Christina's eyes. "Why, what's the matter, dear? You haven't quarrelled with Wallace, haveyou?"

"Oh, no, of course not, " said Christina dolefully, regaining hercomposure. 

"And his mother's just lovely to you now, isn't she?"

"Yes. "

"And, well, what's wrong? Why, any girl I know, even here in town, would give anything for your prospects!"

But Christina could not explain her sudden outburst. It had astonishedherself as much as Mary. She knew that now was the great opportunityto confess to Mary that Wallace had fallen far below her high standard, but the memory of the Ford place and all it meant closed her lips. Itseemed too much to give up, and she went home with the battle betweenher heart and her head still raging. 

CHAPTER XIV

"OVER THE TOP"

The Lindsay boys had been about a month on the battle line when, besidetheir weekly letters, there came a splendid big fat envelope to thehome people, containing a letter from each of the three. 

There had been many letters from the boys, gay and bright and full ofcheer, but none that contained such comfort as these. And theassurance they brought put new life into the mother and Christina'sloving eyes noted a new energy in all her movements. 

She read Jimmie's letter first. It was headed "Back of the Front, " andwas largely taken up with a list of the wonderful things they had hadto eat for their Christmas dinner. It was a bang-up spread, sureenough, and with the boxes sent from home on top of it all, they ate somuch that they couldn't even have run away if Fritz had come over topay them a visit. 

But the important part of the letter was the description of a Sundayafternoon he and Neil and Sandy spent together behind the lines. Itwas great having that day with Sandy. Of course he and Neil werealways together, for Jimmie wished to assure them all at home that hecouldn't blow his nose without Neil standing over him to see that hedid it just right. But a day with Sandy was a treat, for besides beingin another quarter he was an officer, and as hard to get at as theKaiser. But they arranged a meeting this Sunday, and Jimmie guessedthat Sandy bust all the red tape in the British army doing it. 

"Neil and I had just come out of our ground-hog's hole and we hadnearly all France on our uniforms, and Sandy was such a swell, alldolled up like a field-marshal that Neil said perhaps we oughtn't to beso familiar as to salute him. But we got a bath and got fumigated too, and it was real Christmas holidays not to have to scratch for a wholeday. We had to salute Sandy when there was any one else round, butwhen we got him alone I paid him up for all the respect and I wiped thefloor with a few yards of his officer's uniform. I tell you, Christina, he can't put me down now the way he used to. I'm as hard asnails and I'm as tall as he is. Sandy said I could be court-martialedand shot for it, but Neil refereed and saw that justice was done. Istarted out to tell you and Mother about that Sunday we had together, but I'll leave it to Neil, he can do it better than I can, but I wantMother to know that I agree with everything he says, and she needn't bescared about me out here. I'm all right. "

 "So don't cry, Dear, I'm all right here. Oh, it's just like bein' at hame. "

Sandy's letter told still more about the meeting; but Neil's letterwent right to the heart of the matter. "I wish you could have seen usat our Battalion service, Mother, that Sunday morning. It wasn't veryfar back, and we could hear the guns booming as we stood in a quietspot behind a shattered little village. We sang 'Faint not for fear, His arms are near, ' the last hymn we sang in Orchard Glen church, andafter it was over we met Sandy and we went off together, Sandy andJimmie and I, to have one of our old-time Sunday talks, just as we usedto wander off to the fields after Sunday School, we two, with Jimmietagging at our heels. It wasn't much like home, though, just adesolate shell-torn corner behind the ragged remnants of a barn, but, somehow, the quiet took us back to Orchard Glen and home, and youseemed there. And we got talking about the contrast between our lifeout here and back there and the temptations all around that were sonew. And we each stood up, so to speak, and told our experience, likea good old Methodist class-meeting, that would have delighted Grandpaif he could have heard it. And Sandy said that when he saw thedevastation Sin could bring, it had made him want to be a preacher morethan ever before. And then it was Jimmie's turn, and he confessed thatsomething about military camp life gave him a feeling of physicalnausea at first. For a month he didn't want to go beyond the Y. M. C. A. Tent, and then he began to get used to it all, but he never had thesmallest inclination to mix in it. He's the same bright, clean boythat left you, Mother, a great deal older and wiser, but no sadder, andyou need not fear for him. We were saying that it was you who hadgiven us our strength against temptation, because you never setanything but the highest before us and Sandy remarked that you hadbuckled our armour on tight before you sent us out to battle, and thenJimmie said, 'It's like being in one of the Tanks. You ride right overeverything in the biggest show the Huns can pull off and nothing cantouch you. '"

"I think that was a fine description of what you gave us, don't you, Mother? You had no money to give us, but you built and riveted a Tankwith your years of hard toil, and you put us all inside and we are safethere forever. And so you must not worry about us. For even if we arecalled upon to pay the price, what does that matter?"

When the letter was read and reread, Christina was surprised to see hermother put it carefully away in the pocket of her skirt; and putting onher bonnet and cloak, she slipped out quietly and went away across theShort Cut towards the village. Christina wondered that she had saidnothing about where she was going and stood at the window watching herwith anxious loving eyes and wondering if she were wearing warm enoughclothing as the wind swayed her bent old figure. She supposed hermother had gone to see Granny Minns, but Joanna dropped in with someRed Cross work on her way up to Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's for an afternoon'ssewing, and told Christina that she had seen her mother sitting in thechurchyard beside her father's grave. 

Christina's eyes filled with tender tears; she understood. Her motherhad gone with the boys' letters to share with their father the gladnews that had lifted the burden from her heart. 

Christina read all Neil's letter to Grandpa that night. It was nolight task, but she could not bear that he miss a word. She had herreward, for he sang the 103rd psalm at the top of his lungs before hesettled for the night, and the Hindmost Hymn louder and clearer than hehad ever sung it since the day the boys went away. 

And the next morning he read again the 91st psalm, and his old shakingvoice rose high and strong as he came to the words that spoke thetriumph over all life's ills, and for the first time in her lifeChristina understood them. "Surely He shall deliver thee from thesnare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence. .. . Thou shall notbe afraid for the terror by night nor for the arrow that flieth by daynor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness. "

The promise was literally true! The white Comrade walked beside herwarrior brothers and they were safe. And Christina learned thatmorning that there was only one thing in life that mattered after all. For even though the boys had had wealth and power and great fame andsocial position none of these would have brought any real comfort tothe heart of the mother and grandfather at that moment. The knowledgethat they were safe from sin and its power was everything. And thosethings upon which she had set her heart and counted of supremeimportance did not weigh at all in the great crisis of life. 

And right on that day of exultation, when the psalm was still repeatingitself triumphantly in their ears, the dreaded word came from thebattlefield. Mr. Holmes received the telegram at the little officebehind the store. He had been very distant with Mr. Sinclair eversince he joined the Methodists against the Presbyterians, but he forgotall about their estrangement in the terrible task that faced him ofcarrying the news to the Lindsay family. So he went hurriedly to theManse with his heavy burden, and Mr. Sinclair did not seem to think itstrange that he should come. The two men left their work and went upthe hill to the Lindsay home walking close together like children whowere afraid and were trying to give each other support. 

And there by the bright fireside, sitting in the sunny window, whereher scarlet geraniums bloomed as gay as the poppies in Flanders Field, they found Christina and told her the news: that Neil and Jimmie hadgone over the top, together, very eager and glad, and that they wouldnot come back. 

Christina was thankful afterwards for the merciful numbness, that waslike an anaesthetic in a painful operation. She had a feeling that shewould awaken soon and realise fully the terrible calamity that hadbefallen, but just now, if she kept still it would not hurt so much. 

She was filled with wonder at her mother's courage. Even in the firstmoments of anguish she showed not a moment of wavering faith. And shewas more filled with wonder at Grandpa. Neil had been Grandpa'sspecial pride, and she was afraid of the result of the news. She wentto the bright corner of the kitchen where he sat and tried tremblinglyto make him understand, holding back her own grief by main force, thatshe might tell it gently. He made no outcry, spoke no word of grief;but for an hour afterwards he sat quite still in deep thought, and sheheard him saying over and over to himself, as though trying to graspthe magnitude of his sorrow, "Both o' them! Not the two o' them, surely?" And then after pondering a while, "Aye, the two o' them!"

But when she put him to bed that night, dumb and sick with anguishherself, she could not but notice that Grandpa was acting strangely. He had an air of suppressed excitement, as though he were hiding somegood news. She did not guess what it was until she had left him, andoverheard him saying, "Aye, aye, I'll see them all the sooner. All thesooner!" in a tone of exultation. She did not hand him the hymn book, thinking he would not want to sing, but when she peeped in later to seeif it were time to take away the lamp, she was amazed to hear himsinging very softly and low, lest any overhear him, but singing, nevertheless, in the house of mourning, the Hindmost Hymn, "On the other side of Jordan, in the sweet fields of Eden, Where the tree of life is blooming, there is rest for you. "

For Grandpa had travelled far on the upward road, and Christina did notrealise that death was a small incident in the life of one who stoodjust at the door into the other world. 

In the morning when she went in and ran up his window blind to the topto let in the sunlight, he was lying as she had left him the nightbefore, with the little orange-covered book held loosely in his coldhands. For Grandpa had sung the Hindmost Hymn for the last time andwas even now singing the First Hymn in a new Book away in the sweetfields of Eden, where there is no more death, neither sorrow norcrying, neither is there any more pain. 

Christina had no time for her own grief, so busy she was comforting hermother, cheering Uncle Neil, sustaining John and writing consolingletters to the absent ones. Sometimes she was so occupied that shealmost forgot the terrible blow that had fallen, and then it would comeupon her with an unbelievable shock that Neil and Jimmie weredead, --gone forever out of the world!

It was something her heart would not accept. How could it be, itargued, that Neil, so strong and steady and full of high purpose, andJimmie, so radiant and full of life, could be lying dead in the mud ofa trench? It was unbelievable. And at last she came to understand, through watching with her mother, whose faith leaped over even thisbarrier of death, that the instincts of her heart were right. Jimmieand Neil were not dead. They were gone, somewhere, beyond her sight, but they were still living and moving and working as they had done hereon earth. Some fault of vision, some failure of the senses made itimpossible for her to communicate with them. But they were there, andalive! Her mother was sure of that. And Grandpa was right, he had metthem the sooner for their untimely call to the Life Beyond. 

Allister came home as soon as the news about Neil and Jimmie reachedhim. He stayed a week with them, comforting his mother and Uncle Neil, helping John about the barn, and trying to keep Christina from goingtoo often to Grandpa's empty room. He brought a long letter fromEllen, offering to come home just as soon as the hospital authoritieswould spare her. She was getting on wonderfully well, Allisterreported, and had determined, should the war continue, that she wouldoffer herself as a Red Cross nurse, but had decided to come home if shewere needed. 

Christina was longing for her elder sister's presence and help, but theremembrance of Neil's sacrifice for Jimmie made her ashamed of thethought. So she wrote bravely to Ellen bidding her stay until shefinished her course. 

On the evening before Allister left, he and Christina sat by the firetalking, long after the others had gone to bed. Wallace had been thereearlier in the evening, and to Christina's amazement Allister did notshare in the universal admiration for him. 

"He's got money, that young chap, Christine, " he said. "But moneyisn't everything, girl, remember that. "

"But you like Wallace, don't you?" asked Christina in surprise. 

"Oh, I guess he's all right. But he's got things too easy. And he'llwant to get them easy all his life or he'll kick over the traces. "

Christina was not conscious of any feeling of resentment. She did noteven take the trouble to attempt to defend Wallace, and Allister seemedsurprised. 

"Yes, I thought money was the whole thing, " he went on, "and now thewar has made me a poor man. I've got the farm I had when I went Westfirst, and I've got something more, I've got a pocketful of debts thatwill take me years to pay off. But, I guess I'm about as well off insome ways as I ever was. "

Christina would have been very much dismayed at this some monthsearlier, but in the face of the stupendous events of her life the lossof property or even of the chance of wealth seemed trivial. She saidso to Allister and was glad to find that he agreed with her. 

"I found that out since I was home last, " he declared. "I thought youlacked ambition because you always gave up your chance in life to thisone and the other one. But you were the wise one. Money, and gettin'on in the world and all that don't amount to much after all. And ifmoney is all this fellow of yours has, mind you, that ain't enough. Itmight do for some girls, but let me tell you, it won't satisfy you. "

As the dark days of the war dragged on, Christina found her talent forcomforting others sadly needed. For her own family were only theforerunners of many another stricken home. 

Burke was the next to fall, and little Mitty was left alone to strugglewith Granny and poverty and grief, and Christina needed all herstrength to bring her through the trial. 

And the next was Trooper. He went over the top in a gallant raid ofthe Princess Pats, calling on his comrades to follow, and it seemed tothose who had known him, that somewhere he must still be going on, gayand bright and fearless, always calling on other high hearts to comeafter him. 

Joanna bore his going like a soldier's wife. She never walked quite soerect again, and her jet black hair began to turn grey, but she waseven more faithful in her work at the Red Cross meetings, and she andThe Woman grew firmer friends than ever in their common grief. 

Christina went about among the stricken ones, easing her own grief incomforting others. But she had one ever present trouble for which shecould receive no comfort on any side. Every day the falseness of herattitude towards Wallace Sutherland weighed more heavily upon herhonest heart. And how she was going to tell him of the change in hershe did not know. How was she going to tell him that, though he hadonce been her hero, her ideal True Knight, that he had failed to liveup to her high standard, and that another, a real hero, who had lefther at the call of duty, had, all unwittingly, slipped into his place?

And then an event happened that made it unnecessary for her to tellhim. It was the news that came one early day in Spring, when all theworld was a wild rush of wind and water, and blinding sunshine, --theword that Gavin had been killed. 

By a strange chance it was Wallace, himself, who brought the news toChristina. When Mr. Holmes heard the dread message ticked off on thetelegraph machine, he went straight to Mr. Sinclair, again, with hisburden of dismay and grief. And, unable to bear the heavy news alone, the minister went over to see if Dr. McGarry would help him carry theterrible burden to Craig-Ellachie. 

Mr. Holmes kept the dread secret to himself until they had time todeliver it, fearing that the Grant Girls might hear it from anothersource. So the news had not reached the Lindsay farm in the eveningwhen Wallace came up the hill to see Christina. 

He could not but notice a growing change in her manner towards him, buthe had put it down to her grief over the loss of her brothers. One ofChristina's charms in his eyes had been her independence and herevident indifference as to whether what she did or said should pleasehim or otherwise, but he thought it was high time she was showing somewarmth of feeling and instead she had been strange and cold and aloofrecently. And Wallace, accustomed to have everything arranged just ashe wanted it, was beginning to feel somewhat ill-used. He felt that, though Christina were so heartbroken over Jimmie and Neil, she ought toshow more consideration for him. And to-night he had made up his mindto ask her to share the Ford place with him. He had quite decided thatthere could never be any one like Christina for him, and he felt surethat when they were really engaged she would be more like her old self, and they would be as happy as they were in the beginning. 

Christina was sitting in the warm corner by the sitting-room stove, knitting a sock for Gavin when he entered. The room was bright andpleasant, and Wallace felt very happy when he flung himself luxuriouslyupon the deep sofa. But Christina was graver than she had ever been. She was sorry for him and was blaming herself bitterly; she had laid asnare for her own feet and now she was in desperate straits to get outof it. 

Wallace saw her evident distress and supposed she had heard of Gavin, and was disturbed for his Aunts. 

"Awful thing, this, for the poor old Grant Girls, " he remarked, sympathetically. 

Christina stopped in the act of sitting down, and straightened herselfquickly, as though she had been struck a blow. 

"What?" She uttered the word in a fearful whisper, but the young manfelt she was showing only the natural agitation she must feel, remembering Jimmie and Neil. 

"Didn't you hear? Gavin's killed, " he said concisely. 

Christina stood and looked at him stupidly. "What did you say?" sheasked in a dazed fashion. 

"Gavin, --Gavin Grant, " he repeated wonderingly, "he's been killed. They just got the telegram to-night, and Mr. Sinclair and Uncle Peterhave gone to tell the poor old Aunts--" he stopped, struck by the lookin her face. She had turned perfectly white, even to her lips, and satdown, slowly and dazedly. She picked up her knitting, looked at it amoment, foolishly, and then laid it down with a bewildered air. 

Wallace got up suddenly from the sofa. "Christine!" he cried in alarm. "What's the matter? Don't--don't look like that! I didn't mean tofrighten you. Oh, Christina, was Gavin?--Oh, I didn't know! What doesit mean to you?" he cried in sharp dismay. 

She looked at him with honest, stricken eyes. "It means everything tome, Wallace, " she said simply. "Everything in the world, " telling thebald truth, in this supreme moment, without an effort. And when shehad said it, a great billow of darkness came rolling across the roomand surged over her. She heard Wallace calling for her mother, heardUncle Neil run in from the kitchen, and then sank away into a greatsilence and peace. 

They tried to make her stay in bed the next day, but she insisted upongoing to see the Grant Girls with her mother. The fields were too wetand soft to be crossed, so Christina drove Dolly in the old buck-board. Craig-Ellachie was all sunshine, and the windows were alight withblossoms, scarlet geraniums and great waxy begonias, pink and white andcrimson, were in every sunny nook and corner, and purple hyacinths andpure white Easter lilies filled the old kitchen with fragrance. Thegarden, too, showed signs of beauty, for already the first crocus hadpushed its brave little head through the brown earth of the flower beds. 

But the Grant Girls had lost the Spring-time bloom of their youth. Anuntimely frost had smitten down the one flower of their hearts. Theywere not girls any more; three stricken old women sat in the widebright kitchen among the flowers in a bewilderment of grief too deepfor tears. 

Hughie Reid and his wife were there, and Mr. Sinclair and Joanna, andseveral other friends from the village. And out in the summer kitchenMrs. Johnnie Dunn had blackened and polished the stove that did notneed polishing, and was now madly scrubbing the floor that did not needscrubbing in the least, the tears all the while streaming down herface. Everything that loving hands could do in the house and barn wasdone, and the Aunties sat about in unaccustomed idleness, like lostchildren who had suddenly found themselves in strange surroundings, andwere even afraid to speak. 

And Christina sat beside them, dumb with her grief and theirs, and noteven daring to whisper to them that her heart was lying with theirs, "Somewhere in France. "

It seemed a very little thing, in the face of their stupendous loss, when the news came that Gavin had died a very glorious death, that hewould have been given the Victoria Cross had he lived, and that theywere sending it to Auntie Elspie. He had held back a rush of theenemy, alone and single-handed, until his comrades got to a place ofsafety. He had stayed on in a desperate position, working his machinegun, while the world rocked beneath him and the mad heavens raged withshot and shell above him, had held on though he was wounded again andagain, saying between his teeth, "Stand Fast, Craig-Ellachie!" Andthen a shell had come and the gallant stand was over. But he had savedthe Blue Bonnets from destruction, and spared many lives in losing hisown. 

The Aunties held up their poor bowed heads, as Mr. Sinclair read themthe splendid story. They knew Gavie would do something great, and itwas just the way he would have wished to go, Auntie Elspie saidtremulously. But the light had gone out of their lives, and it wassmall comfort that it had blazed so gloriously in the going. 

CHAPTER XV

THE GARDEN BLOOMS AGAIN

The day that Gavin's picture appeared in the Algonquin paper with anaccount of the gallant deed in which he had given his life, Christinareceived a letter in an unknown handwriting. 

Mitty brought it up to her room on a sunny April afternoon, where shewas sitting, trying to interest herself in some sewing for baby Hugh. She laid the letter aside while she finished her work, too indifferenteven to open it, but when the last button-hole was fashioned in thedainty little muslin dress she remembered it. 

She opened it slowly, noticing with some interest that it was from theFront, and then she suddenly sat up very straight and read the writtenpages greedily. The letter was signed, Harry Kent, and was from acomrade of Gavin's in the Blue Bonnets, a boy whom he had oftenmentioned in his letters to Christina. 

And inside was a letter from Gavin himself sealed in a separateenvelope. The first was a formal note from a shy boy. 

"Dear Miss Lindsay: I hope you won't mind if I take the liberty towrite to you, though I am a stranger. Gavin Grant and I were pals, andwhen he went up to the Front for the last time he gave me the letter Iam enclosing, and he asked me to mail it to you. We knew his companywas going into a hot place, and he said he did not think he would getback. So he wrote you this letter and when I heard he was killed Isaid I would mail it to you. Gavin was the finest fellow I ever knew. He was always singing and he taught the fellows a lot of songs. Therewas one he was always singing, it was called a 'Warrior Bold, ' and hewas singing it that morning just before the Boche came over. Thefellows in our Company would rather we had all gone West than Gavin, hewas worth them all put together. .. . "

There was more about what Gavin had done in that last dread struggle. But Christina could not take the time to read it. She opened Gavin'sletter reverently, with trembling hands. The blinding tears wouldpermit her to make out only a few sentences at a time. 

"I wrote you a letter last night, " it said, "and I hope you will notthink I am too bold to be writing you another to-night. But we aregoing up into a rather bad place to-night and if I do not come back, Iwant to send you a good-bye message. I have never been able to tellyou how much you have always been to me. I could not even write it ina letter. I have always been afraid I would offend you. But I thoughtyou would not mind that I told you if I never came back. You havealways been so far above me, that I did not have the courage to try togo with you. And then somebody else came, and I knew I had no chancethen. But you have always been my girl in spite of all that, eversince the day you filled my pail with your berries to save me from athrashing. I was always singing about you when I sang that old song, "'My love is young and fair, My love has golden hair, And eyes so blue and heart so true That none with her compare. '

"It was partly because you were so much to me that I wanted to enlist. I felt that I would be fighting for you. And if I do not come backto-morrow I will be glad to feel that I will be helping to save youfrom harm. You will not miss me, but the Aunties will, and I am goingto ask a great favour of you. Will you always go to see them, andcomfort them? And tell them they must not grieve for me. It is somuch better to come out here and die for a good cause than to live inpeace and safety at home. I am so glad, and they must be glad too, formy sake. I will have your little ring----"

Christina could read no more just then. Her bright head went down onthe sunny window sill, she slipped to the floor in a very passion ofgrief. She was realising with overwhelming remorse that a mostbeautiful thing had happened to her and her eyes had been too blind tosee until the pageant had faded. Her True Knight--and what lady ofhigh degree had a knight more noble?--her True Knight had ridden out tomortal combat, and she had not even waved him farewell from her window!

She left the work with Mitty the next day and went up over the hills tosee the Grant Girls. She did not take her letter, it was too sacredfor even their loving eyes, but she wanted to talk to them about Gavinand, if she were alone with Auntie Elspie, she would whisper to herthat her heart had gone out into the storm and darkness after Gavinthat night he went to the war, and that it still followed him somewherein the shining regions where he moved. 

She went slowly up over the dun fields, lying all quiet and restful, waiting for the stirring of the Spring. Away down in the beaver meadowa soft green flush told that the pussy willows were already out, a boldrobin was singing the opening song of the Spring concert, and the crowscawed derisively over the memories of a vanquished Winter. 

But Christina's sad heart could not respond to these little, gaygreetings of Spring. She lingered in the bare slash, remembering theday of the berry-picking when Gavin had been in such deep trouble. Shestood in the place where he had stood when he pulled the bind-weed, andwhen they had listened to the call of the opening drum beat of the war. And she went over in memory every foot of the walk in the harvestmoonlight from Craig-Ellachie that night when she had been so happywith him, but had walked beside him with blinded eyes. 

The garden at Craig-Ellachie had already wakened to life, the crocuseswere out, rows and rows of them, and the garden hyacinths were holdingup their little green spears. But there was no happy gardener workingin the brown beds. Christina went slowly up the walk where the dryleafless branches of the climbing roses hung over her head. Gavin'sdogs came tumbling down the steps to meet her in joyous welcome. 

She looked up in wonder as the kitchen door was flung suddenly open. Mrs. Johnnie Dunn flashed into the doorway and shouted somethingincoherent, and as suddenly disappeared, and Hughie Reid's wife came tothe window and waved frantically. Christina ran forward, filled withforeboding. She darted up the steps and stopped amazed in the doorway. The kitchen was full of people, it seemed, all moving about and talkingwildly. Mr. Sinclair was there and Dr. McGarry and a half dozen women, and the Aunties were running about laughing and crying, and it seemedas if every one had suddenly gone quite mad. 

And then it seemed to Christina that the room was going round and shefound a chair and sat down quickly, for Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's voice fromfar away was calling out the most amazing and unbelievablething--shouting that Gavin was not dead! He had been found! He hadbeen buried in a shell-hole, half-dead, and when the Blue Bonnets sweptback over the enemy's trenches he had been rescued. He had been badlywounded and had lain unconscious for a long time. But he was alive andwas in a hospital in France!

Christina flew over the brown hills on the way to her mother with thenews, saying over and over to her benumbed senses that Gavin was notdead, that he was alive. It seemed as if her heart had been sostupefied with grief that it could not yet accept joy. She ran in akind of dream saying that she would soon wake up and find that this wasnot true. 

But the glorious news was confirmed. There was a week of alternatewild hope and fear, and then, as wonderful as a message from the dead, came a cable from Gavin himself. He was in a hospital in France andwas progressing rapidly. The next news told that he was in England, and then came a blessed letter from his nurse, saying that he wasrecovering slowly but surely and was promising himself that it wouldnot be long until he would write a letter home. 

Such a clamour of joy and relief as the news of Gavin brought toOrchard Glen no one would have thought possible. Every one hadsorrowed deeply with the Grant Girls and now the whole countryside cameout to Craig-Ellachie to rejoice with them and to hear again and againthe story of Gavin's rescue. And the Grant Girls put in such a gardenas the county had never seen, and grew young and bright again with joyand hope. 

As for Christina she moved about in a golden dream. Life was not realat all these days, but the dream of it was beautiful and the colourcame back to her cheeks and the light to her eyes, and she went aboutthe house with her old swift motions. 

She could not believe in the reality of her joy at all until shereceived her first letter from Gavin. As soon as the message came thathe was in England she wrote him. It was her answer to the letter thathe had never intended her to see during his life. It must have been asatisfactory answer, for not all the skill of surgeon and sistercombined had produced a fraction of the healing and strengtheningquality that its closely written pages brought to the wounded soldierin England. And his answer made Christina's eyes brighter and her steplighter than they had been since the day Jimmy and Neil went over thetop. 

It was not until Gavin was so well that he was walking about that hewrote confessing the full extent of his injuries. He had lost an arm, only his left arm, he wrote, which he really didn't miss much. He madejokes about it and warned Auntie Janet that she need not be layingplans to do as she pleased, for he could manage the whole family andmake them mind, even with one arm. And as he was still a little lameand would be likely to carry a heavy stick for some time he would bequite able to keep her in her place. 

But he did not write so lightly on the matter to Christina. He hadonly one arm, and was a poor hobbling creature, he confessed, and howcould he ask her to share life with him? He was only half a man, and apoor weak half at that. 

But Christina wrote him such a letter as forever put such notions outof Gavin's head. It was a letter that made him feel not like half aman but as though he had the strength of ten. For what was the loss ofan arm when one had such a warm heart beating for him, and awaiting hiscoming?

Christina had not seen Wallace Sutherland since the day he haddisappeared from her view in the black mist that had rolled up over herwith the news that Gavin was killed. Her mind had been too much rackedto think of him since, but now that it was at rest she remembered himwith a feeling of shame. So she sat down and wrote him a letter, telling him humbly and frankly all the truth, how Gavin had held herheart long before she realised it. She begged him to forgive her ifshe had done him any injury and ended up by the tactful hint that astheir association had been a pleasant friendship, in which thekindnesses had been so many and so generous on his side, she hoped hewould think of her with pleasure, and that they would always continueto be friends. 

But Wallace was thinking of Christina with feelings entirely thereverse of pleasant. And his mother was thinking very bitter thoughtsabout her indeed. For just when Mrs. Sutherland had become reconciledto her son's changed prospects, and when Uncle William was doinghandsomely by the boy, when there was every prospect that Wallace wouldsoon be married and be safe from the recruiting officers, with a farmand a wife and a widowed mother between him and military service, wheneverything had turned out better than she had dared to hope, suddenlythe whole fabric of her plans came crashing about her ears. And allowing to the outrageous conduct of a girl who had thrown her son asidefor a farm boy, merely for the glamour of a medal won on thebattlefield!

It was really very hard on poor Mrs. Sutherland, and Christina wasovercome with shame when she thought of her. For Wallace sold the Fordplace to Mrs. Johnnie Dunn for a shamefully low figure and went off tothe States where quite likely some wicked sleuth of a recruitingofficer would find him and send him to the war after all. 

Christina was very humble and very much ashamed of herself, but it washard to worry over Wallace when such wonderful things were happening inone's own life. For before the apple blossoms came to decorate theorchard for her birthday, Sandy was home to help celebrate. Even thenews that he was wounded came as a relief from the strain of waiting. At least he was off the battlefield. And then it proved that the woundwas not serious; but he was lame and unfit for more active service andwas coming home to finish his course at college if that were at allpossible. 

And Uncle Neil took out his fiddle when the letter heralding Sandy'sreturn was received, and played softly some of his old favourite airs;tunes Christina had not heard since the boys went away to the war. Andthey brought the tender tears to her eyes, remembering the happy olddays when they were all at home and Grandpa sang the Hindmost Hymn ateventide. Sandy's presence brought new life to the Lindsay home. Johnand Uncle Neil sat up half the nights listening to his tales of theworld of glory and horror in which he had been living. And Christinaand her mother could scarcely let him out of their sight. He was allthat had been spared them from the War Monster's greed. 

In spite of all the dread sights he had witnessed he was the same gayold Sandy, and the home took on some of its old-time life and gaiety. He and Christina soon fell back into their habit of comradeship. Theyhad many confidences to exchange, and Christina had to tell all thestory of Gavin and what his going had meant to her. Sandy was full ofjoy at the telling. Gavin had always been a True Knight in his eyesand then he had all the returned soldier's disdain of the slacker. Christina could not but shudder at what her life might have been hadambition ruled, instead of her heart and Wallace and Sandy were meetinghere in the old home. 

They had many long talks on the pump platform under the blossomingorchard boughs, and they smiled often over their great plans that hadall turned out so differently from what they had expected. 

"Are you still bound to get out of Orchard Glen?" asked Sandy slyly, and Christina had to confess that she was not. She could not quiteexplain to Sandy that all her restless ambition had been but the desirefor something great and heroic such as her simple life did not seem tocontain. But the great and heroic had come right to her door, unseen, it is true, but now recognised, and her soul was perfectly content inits radiance. Life could never be narrow and common-place any more. She had attained all her ambition through following the road her heartindicated, --the shining pathway of loving self-sacrifice that leads tothe stars. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE HILLS ABOVE ORCHARD GLEN

As soon as the word reached Craig-Ellachie that Gavin was to be senthome to Canada, Orchard Glen began to bustle about for a grandcelebration when he arrived. 

Tremendous K. Got the biggest choir together that the village had everseen; a harmonious jumble of Presbyterians, Methodists and Baptists. And the children of the three Sunday Schools united in a grand chorus, and Minnie Brown and Martha Henderson worked like slaves teaching themsongs and patriotic exercises, all denominations so mixed up nobodycould tell which was which. 

Mr. Sinclair was chairman of the committee to plan the celebration withMr. Wylie and the Baptist minister as his assistants. And nobodyraised the slightest objection when, at the very first meeting, Marmaduke proposed that they invite Piper Lauchie McDonald to come downfrom Glenoro and play Gavin home from the station. 

Mr. Wylie nodded, and said "A good idea, " and old Tory Brown himselfspoke up and said, "Yes, yes, let's have the buddy. I don't like hisnoise, myself, but Gavin will be pleased. He aye liked the pipes. "

And Piper Lauchie was vastly pleased when he received the invitationand graciously declared that he would set his vow aside, not for thesake of Orchard Glen, but out of his reverence for the Victoria Cross, and permit the misguided folk to listen to his music once more. 

Every one was pleased furthermore because the public reception was tobe held in the Temperance Hall instead of the Presbyterian Church, forit was felt that for this occasion Gavin belonged to the whole village, no Church should claim them. And this arrangement suited the good folkwho were alarmed at the possibility of hearing the piper in church, foras old Willie Henderson said, "Even though the lad did a great deed, that was no reason why the people of the village should pollute theHouse o' God. "

So the Hero was to be received in the Temperance Hall where Gavin hadsung his songs of heroic deeds, none so great as that he had donehimself. Then after the reception, with speeches and singing, all wereto gather in the basement of the Methodist Church for a great supper. The Red Cross work was to be cleared away for the occasion, and tableswere to be set that would hold all the township of Oro. And if theweather was fine the supper was to be taken out to the church lawn andeverybody was to have a real good old-fashioned picnic. 

Young Mrs. Martin, who had once taught school, and knew how thingsshould be done, suggested that they arrange the supper in a more up todate style. It could be held in the Hall also, and everybody could sitdown to the tables first and have the speeches after, as was the properway. But The Woman, who was running the affair, would not listen toher. 

"When you want to eat, why eat and be done with it, says I, " shecommanded. "But this mixing up of a concert and speeches with the foodand dirty dishes on a table, I just can't abide. And the idea isnothing but some foolishness of them town trollops who don't know howto do things right anyways. "

So, when everything was arranged so perfectly, and the two choirs couldsing "O Canada" and "Keep the Home Fires Burning" without a flaw, andsufficient sandwiches and cakes and pies had been promised to feed allthe Blue Bonnets had they been coming home, it was something of a shockto everybody's nerves when the astounding intelligence was receivedthat the people of Algonquin were actually claiming Gavin as their own, and were arranging a reception for him at Algonquin on the very sameday!

Fortunately Mrs. Johnnie Dunn discovered in time what Algonquin was upto. The Woman was now the President of the Red Cross Society in name, as well as in reality, as poor Mrs. Sutherland had withdrawn from allsocial life since her bitter disappointment over Wallace. And whileshe was attending a Red Cross meeting in Algonquin, Mrs. Johnnie madeher amazing discovery. She called her forces together immediately uponher return home and told them all the deadly plot of the towns-peoplein a red hot speech that was talked about for years afterwards. 

It appeared that the Algonquin people, with their unfailing habit ofgobbling up everything that came near them, had calmly appropriated theVictoria Cross hero as their own, just because the company of the BlueBonnets to which he belonged had drilled for a few months in theirtown! And they had published all over the countryside that he was anAlgonquin boy. He was to be met at the station, --just as if he hadnobody belonging to him, --by the Mayor, and the Council, and a memberof Parliament, and what not. And there was to be a little girl alldressed up fit to kill, who would hand him a bunch of flowers! ToGavin Grant, who had all the Craig-Ellachie garden waiting for him!And then he was to be taken up to the Town Hall and set down to abanquet, with long speeches by all the preachers in the town, right inthe middle of the eating; one of those messed-up affairs where you satround amongst the dirty dishes and had speeches and singing all mixedup with your meat and potatoes. 

Yes, it was true, --every word of it! It was the Algonquin Presidentherself who told her, --that forward woman who was always teaching themhow to sew a band on a shirt. And it was all the talk at the Red Crossmeeting in town about the wonderful reception that was to be given totheir returned soldier. 

"Who's the reception for?" says I, "for I hadn't heard of any one inAlgonquin that had done anything but dodge the recruiting officer?"

"Why one of our boys won the V. C. At the front, " says she, "didn't youhear about it?"

"The V. C. !" says I, gettin' suspicious, "it's the first time I everheard that any soldier from this town got anything but C. B. " says I. 

"Oh, yes, " says she, as sweet as honey, "why, didn't you see in thepapers about Gavin Grant getting the V. C. ? He's one of our Algonquinboys. He enlisted here in The Blue Bonnets!"

And then another woman speaks up and says she, "'Why Mrs. Dunn, ' saysshe, 'it's a wonder you don't know Gavin Grant. I think he comes fromsomewhere near Orchard Glen, ' says she!"

"'Well' says I, 'it is a wonder; that's a fact! I don't seem to knowas much about him as I thought I did. He's lived almost on the nextfarm to me since he was the size of a grasshopper, ' says I, 'but thisis the first time I ever heard that he belonged to Algonquin!' says I. "

"Well, I tell you, that blew down their clothes-line in a hurry;especially when I told them that he was to be recepted at his own homeon the very day they were planning their spree. "

"They got into a terrible sweat, and one of the women ran andtelephoned the Mayor's office, and the Mayor came runnin' over as ifthe town had caught fire. He was in a great sputter I tell you, when Ilet him know that he'd put his horse into the wrong stall. You'd thinkit had turned out that Gavin was a German spy. "

"'Why, Mrs. Dunn, ' says he, 'we've got all our arrangements made, ' sayshe, 'and Mr. Leigh, the member, is spoken for, ' says he, 'and, you'lljust have to put yours on for the next afternoon, ' says he, 'we reallycan't change now!'"

"'Well, ' says I, 'I wouldn't have you stop Corny Leigh from makin' aspeech, for all the world, ' says I, 'I know how hard it would be onhim, ' says I, 'but I don't see how you'll manage, ' says I, 'seein' thatGavin Grant, V. C. , is going' to get off at Silver Creek Crossing, onthe other side of Orchard Glen!' says I. "

This was an inspiration on The Woman's part, and her audience burstinto clapping. Silver Creek was a little station away back in thewoods, and Orchard Glen lay midway between it and Algonquin. It wasmerely a flag station set away in the swamp, and not a fitting place tomeet a hero home from the war, but every one agreed that in thisemergency it proved a real refuge from the greed of Algonquin. It wasa grand notion of The Woman's, and all Orchard Glen fairly held itssides laughing at the enemy's discomfiture. 

So there was nothing for the vanquished but a retreat. Theyaccomplished it hastily, and dug themselves in, there to await a lateropportunity when Gavin would be received in proper style after OrchardGlen had got over blowing its trumpets. 

But Orchard Glen had to learn that they could not keep Gavin quite tothemselves. A reporter from one of the Algonquin weekly papers cameout to the village; and later a couple of representatives of Torontopapers. They all had dinner at Craig-Ellachie and they took picturesof the old house, and of the three Aunties in the garden, and anotherof Auntie Elspie spinning in the door way. And they carried off aphotograph of Gavin in his Highland bonnet and kilt, and it was allpublished in a great page of the Saturday issue, the pictures of thebeautiful old home, and the thrilling tale of Gavin's glorious deed, with his picture in the centre of it all, and underneath hisbattle-cry, "Stand Fast, Craig-Ellachie!"

And the Aunties were so proud and happy, that they could neither eatnor sleep, but just wandered about the house and garden in a happy daze. 

And through all the interviews, not one of the clever, keen-scentedreporters, discovered that the hero had been just a poor waif from anOrphan Asylum that Auntie Elspie had plucked as a brand from thefurnace of Skinflint Jenkins's cruelty. 

The Grant Girls were eager to guard the secret, but that required somefinesse of which they were entirely incapable. But Mrs. Johnnie Dunnwas equal to any occasion, and she managed to be at Craig-Ellachieduring the interviews. She kept close to the reporters, answering alltheir questions, and forestalling any that might be embarrassing. Without making any direct statements that might hurt the tenderconsciences of the Aunties, she led the newspaper men gently along atrain of thought that ended in the firm impression that Gavin was theonly child of their brother, with all his virtues and many more of hisown. It was a subtle suggestion of The Woman's that made the youngestreporter notice a strong resemblance between Gavin's photograph andAunt Janet. And indeed The Woman made such a fine story for thevisitors, encouraging them along any and every bypath that theirimagination might suggest, that not even Auntie Elspie could recogniseher quiet, unassuming, reticent boy in the prancing warrior that Mrs. Johnnie Dunn permitted the representatives of the press to create. 

The discovery of the perfidy of Algonquin in trying to steal Gavin madesome re-arrangement for his reception necessary. As he was to be metat the quiet little nook in the swamp, instead of the noisy station atAlgonquin, young Mrs. Martin made her second suggestion. It was thatthey have their programme and addresses of welcome right there in theopen, beside the Silver Creek, and the more informal part, the supper, and some of the performances by the children, on their return. 

This new arrangement met with every one's approval; even The Woman feltit would be a good idea to welcome Gavin properly right at the station, as soon as he stepped off. For the papers had all announced thatOrchard Glen was preparing a grand home-coming for their hero, and whoknew but there might be half-a-dozen reporters on the train to takenotes of how they were doing it?

At last the word for which every one was waiting came. Gavin hadreached Toronto; the hospital authorities were releasing him for atime, and the day for his home-coming was set! Sandy Lindsay was inToronto at the time, and he wrote to Christina that he would be up withGavin. For the hero of the Victoria Cross dreaded this publicreception more than German gas, and insisted upon having some supportwhen he was compelled to march into it. 

So Sandy took matters in his own hands and telegraphed Mr. Sinclairthat Gavin would arrive at Silver Creek on the two-thirty train, on aFriday afternoon, and Orchard Glen sat up half the night before gettingready. 

Christina had never taken such a long time dressing in her life as shedid that afternoon. At first she was seized with a sudden panic ofshyness, and told herself she would not go. She knew the girlsgossiped about her sudden change of heart, and her relation to Gavinwas no secret. For the Aunties had been too happy to keep fromtelling, and Mrs. Sutherland had not been guiltless of makingChristina's faithlessness public. 

The girls were rather inclined to feel sorry for Christina. It did notseem possible that any girl would choose Gavin Grant, even with aVictoria Cross, in preference to Wallace Sutherland with the Fordplace, and the only true explanation of the affair was that Wallace hadchanged. On the other hand, Bell Brown declared that Christina Lindsaywas not like other girls and no one could tell what she would do. 

So Christina well knew that they were talking about her, and at firstshe declared she would stay home with her mother and Uncle Neil. Butthe Aunties made it clear that they expected her to go, and she couldnot bear that they be disappointed on this the greatest day of theirlives. And then Gavin would be disappointed too, and that would bestill worse, and she had to confess to her honest heart that Christinawould be more disappointed than any one, for she was impatient to seeher hero, and quite as eager to go as the Aunties themselves. 

So she put away all her fears, and spent a most unreasonable length oftime getting herself ready. She wound her shining braids around herhead and put on her best white dress and her white hat, and reverentlyfastened the purple band on her arm, for the dear ones who would nevercome home, but who were somewhere near in the free outer ring of beingjust beyond the painful confines of her life. And when she was allready, with her golden hair and her eyes so blue, as Gavin had so oftensung, she looked very young and fair, and far more beautiful than anyLindsay girl had ever yet looked. 

The weather was perfect, such a glorious day of blank blue skies, withthe smooth shaven fields lying golden-brown in the sunshine. Here andthere a field showed sheaves of wheat standing in khaki-coloured groupslike soldiers on guard. Nobody cared that the Air Service of theclouds might bomb them with silver bullets before night, for how couldany one stay home and haul in his crop when one of their own boys wascoming home bearing the Victoria Cross?

The crowd gathered at the corner, where the order of the procession wasto be arranged. Piper Lauchie was there early this time and wasmarching up and down the store veranda, so that nobody could come in orout, and playing gloriously. Mrs. Johnnie Dunn brought her new car tocarry the three Aunties, with a space reserved for Gavin. Mr. Holmeshad recently bought a Ford and he came next with the piper, a piece ofreal Christian sacrifice on the store-keeper's part. He was followedby the ministers, all crowded amicably into one single buggy, wherethere was no room for denominational differences. Next came the choir, spreading over three big democrats, and following them, the Hendersons'hay wagon with the children piled into it three deep. Ordinaryindividuals came next without any order of precedence, and as far downthe line as possible, Christina sat beside John in their single buggy. 

The procession made a brave showing, with the long line of vehiclesstretching from the corner away up the hill and down the other side, every one decorated with flags and streamers, and Piper Lauchiestanding up in the Holmes' car playing loud enough to be heard inAlgonquin. 

But not all the rest of the procession together could compare indisplay with Mrs. Johnnie Dunn's car where the three Aunties satarrayed as no even the Grant Girls had ever appeared in public. AuntieElspie wore a sea-green brocaded satin, trimmed with silk fringe;Auntie Flora was in a dazzling silk of an ancient "changeable" variety, that was now purple and now gold, and a wonderful beaded cape of blackvelvet. And Auntie Janet was in her ruby velvet with a rose silkfringed parasol that turned to flame when the sun struck it. Andbeside they had the car filled with flowers and each Auntie carried alittle posie of rosemary and pinks, Gavin's favourites of all thegarden. 

"We wanted him to smell the rosemary as soon as he got off the train, "explained Auntie Flora, "and then he would feel he was at home. "

The procession were a bright and beautiful sight, indeed, and the GrantGirls' faces, so shining and young and eager, were the brightest thingin all the gay throng that started out to bring Gavin home. 

Mrs. Johnnie Dunn had them all put into their proper places at last andaway they went skimming down the sunny River Road, under the toweringelms that fringed the highway, with the golden harvest-fields, wherethe khaki-coloured sheaves stood up like soldiers on guard, smiling oneither hand, and the winding reaches of the Silver Creek peeping outfrom the green, here and there, with a flash like an unsheathed sword. 

The Woman had arranged the programme to be given at the Crossing, sothat there was no possibility of anything going wrong. The choirs wereto line up, right in front of the place where the train would stop, with the Piper behind them, ready to play at the first sight of thetrain coming out of the swamp. Indeed the Piper was The Woman's oneanxiety. She was afraid he could not be induced to stop in time forthe children to come in with their chorus, and she had cautionedMarmaduke to give his old shawl a good jerk and choke him off before itwas too late. 

It had been arranged, very prettily, that the Piper was to play untilthe train came to a stop, then he was to stop too, and the childrenwere to burst into "O Canada, " and were to sing it with all theirmight, standing up in the wagon and waving their flags. While this wasgoing on Gavin would be getting off the train and was to be welcomed bythe ministers and Dr. McGarry and Mr. Holmes, the special committeeappointed for the purpose. Then the committee was to lead him to thecar where the Grant Girls were sitting, and while he was meeting them, Marmaduke was to give the signal, and all were to burst into threecheers, and the boys had promised they would be such cheers as hadnever before wakened up the echoes of the swamp. 

When Gavin was properly seated, both the choirs, and indeed everybody, were to join in singing his regimental song, "All the Blue Bonnets areover the Border. "

And when that was finished Mr. Sinclair was to read the address, andMr. Wylie and the Baptist minister were to say a few words, and ifAuntie Elspie could make him, Gavin was then to step out upon theplatform and give his reply. And Auntie Elspie had promised to do herbest, but would give no assurance of success. 

When this was over, there was to be another patriotic song by thechoirs, then the Piper could have a chance again, and every one was toclimb back into their rigs, and they would all go back home and havesuch a supper as nobody would believe until they saw it!

It was really to be a fine welcome home, and Orchard Glen could nothelp feeling some regret, that Algonquin's mean habit of hero-snatchingshould have prevented the whole town witnessing the splendid scene. 

When they all drew up with much noise and dust at Silver CreekCrossing, the crowd made a great stir in the lonely place, and thesound of their gay voices echoed far away into the swamp as theyarranged themselves around the tiny platform, and along the green bankof the stream. 

Willie Meek, the one inhabitant of the lonely place, came out of histiny habitation with a tattered cloth on a stick and stood ready toflag the train. And then when every one was ready and waiting, ofcourse the Martin children were constrained to stir up trouble! Assoon as the children's choir was put into its proper place, these two"limbs, " as Mrs. Johnnie Dunn called them, slipped away from theconfines of the hay wagon, and no one missed them till a terriblescream from the crossing bridge announced that one of them had falleninto the creek. 

Mrs. Martin echoed the scream and called out as she always did in timeof disaster, "Oh, Alfred!" And Alfred left his horses and ran to therescue. Willie Meek dropped his flag and Piper Lauchie dropped hispipes, and joined the crowd that was pulling the eldest Martin out ofthe soft mud and water of the creek. And at the same moment the shriekof the train just on the other side of the bend came thrilling throughthe woods. Tremendous K. Saw that there was nobody to flag the trainand he rushed gallantly onto the track, waving his hands and shoutingon the monster to stop. 

But they might have known that the train would stop if there had beenno one there at all. For all the way from Toronto hadn't two returnedsoldiers been tormenting the conductor with warnings to stop at SilverCreek Crossing, if he valued his life. And at every station he wouldcome into then and say hopefully, "Only six more stops, boys, " or "Justfive more, and we're there, " and finally it had been "Silver Creekcomes next, " and, with fine sarcasm, "Did you say you wanted to get offthere?"

And so, when the train swept round the bend out of the swamp, with ashriek and a roar, and came thundering down upon the Crossing, therewas no need for Tremendous K. , who, nevertheless, stood his ground inthe middle of the track, waving his arms to be quite sure there was nodanger of its tearing through, and carrying Gavin on to Algonquin. 

The roaring monster stopped with a grumbling of brakes and an impatienthissing of steam, with Gavin's car right in front of the waiting crowd. All eyes were turned upon the two khaki-clad figures. The youngofficer was in the background, the kilted figure was on the step. Gavin was leaning far out, his eager eyes sweeping the crowd. Helooked very tall and very, very thin, with a red spot burning on eithersunken cheek, but his eyes were bright and he stood up very straightand looked a gallant figure for all he held a heavy stick in his onehand, and his poor empty sleeve was tucked into his pocket. 

And at the sight of him Auntie Elspie gave a cry, and before any of thecommittee could get near him, Gavin had fairly fallen off the carplatform, and at the same moment the three Aunties had tumbled from thecar where they were supposed to sit decorously, and the four were ineach other's arms, and the Grant Girls were crying over their batteredhero, as they had not cried even when they heard he was lying dead onthe battlefield of France. And Gavin, half-laughing, half-crying, himself, was trying to gather the three of them into his one poor armwhich was needed so badly for his supporting stick!

And all Orchard Glen stood and looked on in dead silence, with a lumpin every throat and a mist in every eye, and everybody forgot entirelythat there was such a thing as a programme to be followed. 

Finally, Mr. Sinclair and Dr. McGarry led the Aunties back to the carand as Gavin climbed in he cried out, "Oh, Auntie Flora, I'm reallyhome. I smell the garden. " And the Aunties took to crying harder thanever. 

Then all the mothers, who were weeping in sympathy, came and hugged andkissed him, and shed tears over him, and all the rest left theirappointed places and crowded round the hero to get in a word ofwelcome, and speakers and choir and everybody got all mixed up inhopeless confusion. 

Nobody noticed that the train had pulled out again, and that every oneon board (and who knew but half of them might be newspaper reporters?)had seen the Orchard Glen had done nothing but stand and stare inperfect silence when one of their boys came home bearing the VictoriaCross, and what would the people of Algonquin say when they heard?

But nobody thought of all this just yet, not even The Woman, for shetoo was crying over Gavin's empty sleeve, and thinking of the one whowould never come back. Every one was coming up to shake his hand nowand Gavin's eyes were wandering searchingly over the crowd, even whenMarmaduke and Tremendous K. And the minister were making him welcome. 

And suddenly the restless, hungry look was replaced by a flash ofrapture, for Christina, all flushed and trembling, and looking morebeautiful than any one would have dreamed she could look, came forward, hanging tightly to Sandy's arm. She forgot all about the crowd forjust a moment, when she took his one hand in both hers, and whispered, "Oh, Gavin!" And he looked at her with his eyes shining and said withequal incoherence, "Oh, Christine!"

They stood for a moment looking into each other's eyes, the worldblotted out, and remembered the night they parted. And they did notsay what they had expected to say at all. For Gavin whispered, lookingat her dress, "You are wearing my pin. " And she looked down for herring, and remembered that the hand that had worn it was gone! And shecould only look at him with the tears welling up in her eyes, and thenshe was pushed on to make room for Tilly who was crying her pretty eyesout for no reason at all. It was not much of an interview, but it wasa very great deal to the lovers, and the red spot that had faded fromGavin's cheeks at the first sight of Christina, flamed up again, and herallied Tilly gaily and asked her was she sorry that he had come home?

And when the mothers had all kissed him and bewailed him and rejoicedover him again, and they had all climbed into their cars and buggies, and Piper Lauchie had tuned up for a homeward march, The Woman suddenlyremembered that there had been no singing and no addresses and noprogramme and nothing but dead silence and tears to welcome the hero ofthe Victoria Cross on his return from the war!

It was perfectly outrageous, and not to be tolerated for a moment. Shesprang from her car, leaving Gavin and his Aunts to themselves, andshouted to Tremendous K. And Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Holmes to come rightback and do it all over again!

But nobody paid the slightest attention. The procession was alreadymoving down the road without the slightest regard to order. The strainhad been removed, and everybody seemed seized with a joyous madness. Even Mr. Sinclair waved his hat and laughed at her as his buggy swungpast, leaving the hero in the rear. 

Then Marmaduke forsook his companions and without asking permissionscrambled into her car with Gavin, and sat on the silk fringe of AuntieElspie's dress, and shouted and waved encouragement to every one thatpassed while The Woman screamed expostulations. 

"Never mind, " he roared, to each one, "we didn't forget to flag thetrain!" and from each buggy and car the long delayed cheers burst forth. 

In spite of all her efforts the procession dashed away. Though itwasn't a real procession at all, but a joyous scramble, with every onegetting in every one else's way. The children would not go back intotheir hay-wagon, but scrambled all over into the best cars, and thegirls in the choir got mixed up with the boys in single buggies, and acrowd of foolish young fellows got into Mr. Holmes' car with the Piper, and actually persuaded that staid and proper pillar of the BaptistChurch to race with Dr. McGarry. And the Piper was so shaken up hecouldn't play at all. And young Mr. Martin's horse took fright at thenoise and confusion, and nearly ran away, and just escaped throwing allthe children into the ditch. And so they all scampered gaily, helter-skelter, back to the village, the hero far in the rear, hiddenin clouds of dust, with his friends gambolling ahead. And indeedGavin's homecoming was no more like a triumphal procession than any ofthe foot-ball games in which he used to take part in the river pasture. 

But whatever faults The Woman or Tremendous K. Might have found withhis reception, it was perfect in Gavin's eyes and the eyes of the threeAunties. For all its mistakes were but the result of the overwhelmingsympathy and joy of his friends, and relief that the Aunties had not, after all, lost the light of their eyes. And indeed if no one had methim but had left him to find his way to Craig-Ellachie alone, andafterwards over the hills to Christina, Gavin would have been perfectlyhappy. For he was still much the same shy boy who had gone away, withno thought of glory or public notice, but only a simple desire to dohis duty. He was not a boy any more, for he had been through scenesthat make men old, and the remembrance of them lingered in his deepeyes, and showed in a new staidness of manner. But he was the samesimple-hearted Gavin, reticent and unassuming and in his heart healmost could wish, except for the joy it gave his Aunties, that he hadnever heard of the Victoria Cross. He had only done his duty, herepeated over and over, and all the men at the Front were doing that. 

And so he lay back among the cushions, surrounded by flowers, his onehand in Auntie Elspie's, and looked with shining eyes, not at thebeautiful familiar bits of landscape which were passing, and to whichthe Aunties were calling his attention, but at the gleam of agolden-brown head that was occasionally visible from John Lindsay'sbuggy. Marmaduke pointed out this and that historical landmark; thehill where they used to go coasting in winter; the old burnt stump upwhich Gavin had climbed to get the hawk's nest one day at recess; thehole below the mill where the teacher forbade them to swim and intowhich they all plunged at noon quite regularly, and Gavin smiled andnodded, and saw nothing but the gleam of gold ahead. 

Whatever had been wrong with the reception and the procession, no faultcould be found with the supper. It had been set outdoors on the churchlawn, and the tables were so ladened with chicken and ham and jelliesand salads and cake and pie, that instinctively the men took off theircoats before sitting down to the attack. And after everything waseaten nobody seemed able either to hear or make a speech. And therewas no music and no programme, for the juvenile choir, after gorgingitself in a truly dangerous fashion, went out into the dust of thevillage street, and played tag and hide-and-seek, and not even the PiedPiper, himself, could have collected them again. And the other choirwas either waiting on the tables, or eating so much that they couldn'tsing either. 

The address was read, but there was so much noise and joyous running toand fro that not even Gavin heard it. And his speech was as short as aspeech could possibly be, just a word of thanks for himself and hisAunts and his oft reiterated statement, he had only done his duty, andall the fellows at the Front, and many at home were doing that. 

But everybody had a grand time, nevertheless, such a time of laughingand talking and eating together as had not been experienced in OrchardGlen since the fell day the Piper came to rend the villageasunder, --the Piper, who was at this very moment cementing it againwith "Tullochgorum, " which he was blowing uproariously as he marched upand down in front of the Methodist Church!

When Christina reached home she found there was little work to be done. Uncle Neil and Mitty had come home early and had already finished themilking. Sandy was tired and had stretched himself in the hammock, tohave a talk with his mother. Contrary to her custom Christina did notlay aside her white dress for a plainer garb. She spent a long timerearranging the shining crown of her braids, and when the shadows ofthe poplars began to stretch across the garden, she slipped awaythrough the barn-yard and up the back lane, up to the sun-lit hill top, where Gavin had promised to meet her. 

The peace of evening was falling with the dew. From far down in thevillage came the sound of children's voices, beyond the orchards abinder was singing its way through the golden fields. Up on the hilltop there was a sense of remoteness from the world, all sound andmovement seemed far away. Only the vesper sparrows were here, fillingthe amber twilight with their soft murmurs, and away in the dim greenaisles of the Slash a phoebe was calling sweetly. Christina came upinto the light of the setting sun, and when Gavin's eyes first spiedher, its rays were lighting up her white gown and touching heruncovered head to pure gold. He took off his Scotch bonnet at thesight of her. 

There was an old heavy gate opening from his fields, and Christina, whowas lingering that Gavin might come to her, saw that he was tryingvainly to open it with his one hand, his stick held under what remainedof his poor left arm. She forgot all her shyness and her pride at thesight, forgot everything but that Gavin needed her, and ran swiftly tohim, down the green woodland pathway. 

She took the heavy gate in her strong, brown hands and pushed it back. 

"Oh, Gavin, " she cried radiantly, "I will have to be your other hand, won't I?"

Even Gavin's unready tongue could not miss this great opportunity, "Yes, you will be everything, --my whole life, Christine, " he murmured. 

The heavy gate between them was open at last. It had been a long, hardclimb, up their separate hills of suffering and self-sacrifice, butthey had come up steadily and bravely. And now they met, and stoodhand in hand, on the rosy hill-top. 

THE END