met with in the Bush
ranches.

"This," he said, "is, I suppose, the kind of thing they are going to
turn out at that wood-pulp mill. You have probably observed the
thickness of it?"

"I believe it is, though they are going to make paper stock, too."

"Well," pursued Wisbech; "it may meet the requirements of the country,
but it is a very crude and inartistic production. I may say that it is
my business to make enamelled ware. The Wisbech bowls and cups and
basins are justly celebrated--light and dainty, and turned out to
resemble marble, granite, or the most artistic china. They will
withstand any heat you can subject them to, and practically last for
ever."

He broke off for a moment with a chuckle. "I can't detach myself from
my business as some people seem to fancy one ought to do. After all,
it is only by marriage that Derrick Nasmyth is my nephew." His manner
became grave again. "I married his mother's sister--very much against
the wishes of the rest of the family. As Derrick has lived some time
here, the latter fact will probably not astonish you."

Laura said nothing, though she understood exactly what he meant. She
was becoming more sure that she liked the man, but she realized that
she might not have done so had she met him before she came out to
Canada, where she had learned to recognize the essential points in
character. There were certainly respects in which his manner would
once have jarred upon her.

Her expression was reassuring when he turned to her again.

"I was a retail chemist in a little pottery town when I discovered the
properties of one or two innocuous fluxes, and how to make a certain
leadless glaze," he said. "Probably you do not know that there were
few more unhealthy occupations than the glazing of certain kinds
of pottery. I was also fortunate enough to make a good deal of money
out of my discovery, and as I extended its use, I eventually
started a big enamelling works of my own. After that I married; but
the Nasmyths never quite forgave me my little idiosyncrasies and
some of my views. They dropped me when my wife died. She"--his face
softened curiously--"was in many ways very different from the rest
of them."

He broke off, and when he sat silent a moment or two Laura felt a
curious sympathy for him.

"Won't you go on?" she said.

"We had no children," said the man. "My own folks were dead, but I
contrived to see Derrick now and then. My wife had been very fond of
him, and I