med Harry. "Run away from her, and come and bide with
us."

"Hush, Harry," said Graeme, softly, "grandma is Mr Snow's mother."

There was a pause. In a little Emily spoke for the first time of her
own accord.

"There are no children at our house," said she.

"Poor wee lammie, and you are lonely sometimes," said Graeme.

"Yes; when father's gone and mother's sick. Then there's nobody but
grandma."

"Have you a doll?" asked Menie.

"No: I have a kitten, though."

"Ah! you must come and play with my doll. She is a perfect beauty, and
her name is Flora Macdonald."

Menie's doll had become much more valuable in her estimation since she
had created such a sensation among the little Merleville girls.

"Will you come? Mr Snow," she said, climbing upon the front seat which
Norman shared with the driver, "won't you let your little girl come and
see my doll?"

"Well, yes; I guess so. If she's half as pretty as you are, she is well
worth seeing."

Menie was down again in a minute.

"Yes, you may come, he says. And bring your kitten, and we'll play all
day. Graeme lets us, and doesna send us to bed. Will you like to
come?"

"Yes," said the child, quickly, but as gravely as ever.

They stopped at the little brown house at last, with a shout that
brought their father and Janet out to see. All sprang lightly down.
Little Emily stayed alone in the sleigh.

"Is this your little girl, Mr Snow?" said Mr Elliott, taking the
child's hand in his. Emily looked in his face as gravely and quietly as
she had been looking at the children all the afternoon.

"Yes; she's your Marian's age, and looks a little like her, too. Don't
you think so Mrs Nasmyth?"

Janet, thus appealed to, looked kindly at the child.

"She might, if she had any flesh on her bones," said she.

"Well, she don't look ragged, that's a fact," said her father.

The cold, which had brought the roses to the cheeks of the little
Elliotts, had given Emily a blue, pinched look, which it made her
father's heart ache to see.

"The bairn's cold. Let her come in and warm herself," said Janet,
promptly. There was a chorus of entreaties from the children.

"Well, I don't know as I ought to wait. My horses don't like to stand
much," said Mr Snow.

"Never mind waiting. If it's too far for us to take her home, you can
come down for her in the evening."

Emily looked at her father wistfully.

"Would you like to stay, dear?" asked he.

"Yes, si