"What an ugly little man!"

Then it was Eeny's turn, and presently they were all seated at the
table--the baronet at Kate's right hand, talking to her of Old England,
and of by-gone days, and of people the rest knew nothing about. Captain
Danton gallantly devoted himself to the other three, and told them he
had brought them all presents from Montreal.

"Oh, papa, have you though!" cried Rose. "I dearly love presents; what
have you brought me?"

"Wait until after dinner, little curiosity," said her father. "Grace,
whom do you think I met in Montreal?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Why, that brother of yours. I was loitering along the Champ de Mars,
when who should step up but Doctor Frank. Wasn't I astonished! I asked
what brought him there, and he told me he found St. Croix so slow he
couldn't stand it any longer. Complimentary to you, young ladies."

Kate gave Rose a mischievous look, and Rose bit her lip and tossed back
her auburn curls.

"I dare say St. Croix and its inhabitants can survive the loss," she
said. "Papa, the next time you go to Montreal I want you to take me.
It's a long time since I have been there."

"I thought you were going back to Ottawa," said Grace. "You seem to have
forgotten all about it."

Rose gave her an alarmed look; and finding a gap in the tete-a-tete
between her sister and Sir Ronald, struck smilingly in. He was small and
he was homely, but he was a baronet and worth eight thousand a year, and
Rose brought all the battery of her charms to bear. In vain. She might
as well have tried to fascinate one of the gnarled old tamaracks
out-of-doors. Sir Ronald was utterly insensible to her brightest smiles
and glances, to her rosiest blushes and most honeyed words. He listened
politely, he answered courteously; but he was no more fascinated by
Captain Danton's second daughter than he was by Captain Danton's
housekeeper.

Rose was disgusted, and retreated to a corner with a book, and sulked.
Grace, Kate, and Eeny, who all saw through the little game, were
exceedingly amused.

"I told you it was of no use, Rose," said Kate, in a whisper, pausing at
the corner. "Do you always read with the book upside down? Sir Ronald is
made of flint, where pretty girls are concerned. You won't be 'my lady'
this time."

"Sir Ronald is a stupid stick!" retorted Rose. "I wouldn't marry him if
he were a duke instead of a baronet. One couldn't expect anything better
from a Scotchman, though."

It was the