e, even if I were free to ask her hand?"

"Ground? Why the ground that she is fond of you. Any man with half an
eye could see that, by the way she looks at and speaks to you. Of
course you have not observed that. I trust, my boy, you are too
honourable to have encouraged it. Nevertheless, it is a fact--a
miserable, tantalising, exasperating fact--a maddening fact, now that
that hideous red-Indian--Hottentot stands in the way."

"That red-Indian--Hottentot," said I, unable any longer to cause my dear
father so much pain, "does _not_ stand in the way, for I am happy to
tell you that Miss Waboose and Eve are one and the same person."

"Come, come, Punch," returned my parent, testily, "I'm in no humour for
jesting. Go away, and let me get to bed and pillow my head on oblivion
if possible."

I do assure you, reader, that I had no slight difficulty in persuading
my father that Eve Liston and Waboose were really the same person.

"But the girl's _fair_," objected my father, when the truth began to
force an entrance.

"Yes--`passing fair,'" said I.

"And with blue eyes and golden hair!" said he.

"Even so," said I.

"No more like a savage than I am?" said my father.

"Much less so," said I.

When at length he did take in the fact, he flung his arms round my neck
for the second time that day, and did his best to strangle me. Then,
under a sudden impulse, he thrust me out into the passage and shut and
locked the door.

"You won't pillow your head on oblivion now, will you, daddy?" I asked
through the keyhole.

"Get away, you deceiver!" was the curt reply.

But surprises did not come singly at that time. Call it a miracle, or a
coincidence, or what you will, it is a singular fact that, on the very
next day, there arrived at Sunny Creek cottage four travellers--namely,
Jack Lumley, the black-haired pale-face, Peter Macnab, and Big Otter.

On beholding each other, Jessie Lumley and Eve Liston, uttering each a
little shriek, rushed into each other's arms, and straightway, for the
space of five minutes, became a human amalgam.

"Not too late, I hope?" said Lumley, after the first excitement of
meeting was over.

"Too late for what?" said I.

"For the wedding, of course," said he.

"By no means. It is fixed for this day three weeks."

"Good--Jessie and I will have the knot tightened a little on the same
day by the same man."

"Wind and weather permitting," said Macnab, with his wonted irreverence.