all unprejudiced minds, that Britain has produced
some great men," said Mr Foster, breaking out in a new spot as Mr Snow
whispered to the Squire.

"Surely that would be granting too much," said Norman.

"But," pursued Mr Foster, "Britons themselves confess that it is on
this Western Continent that the Anglo-Saxon race is destined to triumph.
Descended from Britons, a new element has entered into their blood,
which shall--which must--which--"

"Sounds considerable like the glorious Fourth, don't it?" whispered Mr
Snow.

"Which hasna put muckle flesh on their bones as yet," said the literal
Mrs Nasmyth.

"I was about to say that--that--"

"That the British can lick all creation, and we can lick the British,"
said Mr Snow.

"Any crisis involving a trial of strength, would prove our superiority,"
said Mr Foster, taking a new start.

"That's been proved already," said Mr Snow, watching the sparkle in
Graeme's eye. She laughed merrily.

"No, Mr Snow. They may fight it out without me to-night."

"I am glad you are growing prudent. Mrs Nasmyth, you wouldn't believe
how angry she was with me one night."

"Angry!" repeated Graeme. "Ask Celestia."

"Well, I guess I shouldn't have much chance between Celestia and you.
But I said then, and I say now, you'll make a first-rate Yankee girl
yourself before seven years."

"A Yankee!" repeated her brothers.

"A Yankee," echoed Menie.

"Hush, Menie. Mr Snow is laughing at us," said Graeme.

"I would rather be just a little Scotch lassie, than a Yankee Queen,"
said Menie, firmly.

There was a laugh, and Menie was indignant at her brothers for joining.

"You mean a president's wife. We don't allow queens here--in this free
country," said Mr Snow.

"But it is dreadful that you should hate us so," said the Squire.

"I like you, and the Judge. And I like Mrs Merle."

"And is that all?" asked Mr Snow, solemnly.

"I like Emily. And I like you when you don't vex Graeme."

"And who else?" asked Mr Greenleaf.

"I like Celestia. She's nice, and doesna ask questions. And so does
Graeme. And Janet says that Celestia is a lady. Don't you like her?"
asked Menie, thinking her friend unresponsive.

"You seem to be good at asking questions yourself, Menie, my woman,"
interposed Mrs Nasmyth. "I doubt you should be in your bed by this
time." But Mr Snow caused a diversion from anything so melancholy.

"And don't Cousin Celestia like me?" asked he.

"Yes; she s