uch of Boston seen in
one day before, without the aid of a carriage and pair. It was a day
never to be forgotten by the children. The enjoyment was not quite
unmixed to Graeme, for she was in constant fear of losing some of them.
Harry was lost sight of for a while, but turned up again with a chapter
of adventures at his finger ends for their amusement.

The crowning enjoyment of the day was the treat given by Allan Ruthven
on their way home. They were very warm and tired, and hungry too, and
the low, cool room down some steps into which they were taken, was
delightful. There was never such fruit--there were never such cakes as
these that were set before them. As for the ice cream, it was--
inexpressible. In describing the feast afterwards, Marian could never
get beyond the ice cream. She was always at a loss for adjectives to
describe it. It was like the manna that the Children of Israel had in
the wilderness, she thought, and surely they ought to have been content
with it.

Graeme was the only one who did not enjoy it thoroughly. She had an
idea that there were not very many guineas left in Allan's purse, and
she felt bound to remonstrate with him because of his extravagance.

"Never mind, Graeme, dear," said Norman; "Allan winna have a chance to
treat us to manna this while again; and when I am Mayor of Boston, I'll
give him manna and quails too."

They came home tired, but they had a merry evening. Even Graeme
"unbent," as Harry said, and joined in the mirth; and Janet had enough
to do to reason them into quietness when bed-time came.

"One would think when Mr Allan is going away in the morning, you might
have the grace to seem sorry, and let us have a while's peace," said
she.

If the night was merry, the morning farewells were sad indeed, and long,
long did they wait in vain for tidings of Allan Ruthven.

CHAPTER SIX.

"But where's the town?"

The bairns were standing on the highest step of the meeting-house,
gazing with eyes full of wonder and delight on the scene before them.
The meeting-house stood on a high hill, and beyond a wide sloping field
at the foot of the hill, lay Merleville pond, like a mirror in a frame
of silver and gold. Beyond, and on either side, were hills rising
behind hills, the most distant covered with great forest trees, "the
trees under which the red Indians used to wander," Graeme whispered.
There were trees on the nearer hills too, sugaries, and thick pine
gro