ethune of the time
when you whacked him over the head with a cudgel."

"And what did Master Francis say to that?" inquired Nan, with a laugh.

"Why, what could he say? He simply turned red. Now, if it had been me,
I----"

The path was so narrow, that Nan, the two lads, and Tasma Tid were
walking in Indian file. Nan stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that
Gabriel fell against her. As he did so, she turned and seized him by the
arm, and emphasised her words by shaking him gently as each was uttered.
"Now--Gabriel--don't--say--disagreeable--things!"

What she meant he had not the least idea, and it was not the first nor
the last time that his wit lacked the nimbleness to follow and catch her
meaning.

"Disagreeable!" he exclaimed. "Why, I was simply going to say that if I
had been in Bethune's shoes to-day, I should have declared that you did
the proper thing."

Nan dropped a low curtsey, saying, "Oh, thank you, sir--what was the
gentleman's name, Cephas--the gentleman who was such a cavalier?"

"Was he a Frenchman?" asked Cephas.

"Oh, Cephas! you should be ashamed. You have as little learning as I."
With that she turned and went along the path at such a rapid pace that
it was as much as the lads could do to keep up with her, without
breaking into an undignified trot.

Nan went home with Gabriel; was there before him indeed, for he paused a
moment to say something to Cephas. She ran along the walk, took the
steps two at a time, and as she ran skipping along the hallway, she
cried out: "Grandmother Lumsden! where are you? Oh, what do you think?
Margaret Gaither has come home!" When Gabriel entered the room, Nan had
fetched a footstool, and was already sitting at Mrs. Lumsden's feet,
holding one of the old lady's frail, but beautiful white hands.

Here was another picture, the beauty of which dawned on Gabriel
later--youth and innocence sitting at the feet of sweet and wholesome
old age. The lad was always proud of his grandmother, but never more so
than at that moment when her beauty and refinement were brought into
high relief by her attitude toward Nan Dorrington. Gabriel was very
happy to be near those two. Not for a weary time had Nan been so
friendly and familiar as she was now, and he felt a kind of exaltation.

"Margaret Gaither! Margaret Gaither!" Gabriel's grandmother repeated the
name as if trying to summon up some memory of the past. "Poor girl! Did
you see her, Gabriel? And how did she look?" Wit