go out, and an extra half-hour to put him to
sleep. The horses are there. Slip down and out, Ursula. We'll make
Charlottetown by dawn yet.'

"'That's easier said than done, lad. I'm locked in. But do you go out
behind the new barn and bring the ladder you will find there.'

"Five minutes later, Miss Ursula, hooded and cloaked, scrambled
soundlessly down the ladder, and in five more minutes she and Kenneth
were riding along the road.

"'There's a stiff gallop before us, Ursula,' said Kenneth.

"'I would ride to the world's end with you, Kenneth MacNair,' said
Ursula. Oh, of course she shouldn't have said anything of the sort,
Felicity. But you see people had no etiquette departments in those days.
And when the red sunlight of a fair October dawn was shining over the
gray sea The Fair Lady sailed out of Charlottetown harbour. On her deck
stood Kenneth and Ursula MacNair, and in her hand, as a most precious
treasure, the bride carried a ball of gray homespun yarn."

"Well," said Dan, yawning, "I like that kind of a story. Nobody goes and
dies in it, that's one good thing."

"Did old Hugh forgive Ursula?" I asked.

"The story stopped there in the brown book," said the Story Girl, "but
the Awkward Man says he did, after awhile."

"It must be rather romantic to be run away with," remarked Cecily,
wistfully.

"Don't you get such silly notions in your head, Cecily King," said
Felicity, severely.

CHAPTER III. THE CHRISTMAS HARP

Great was the excitement in the houses of King as Christmas drew nigh.
The air was simply charged with secrets. Everybody was very penurious
for weeks beforehand and hoards were counted scrutinizingly every day.
Mysterious pieces of handiwork were smuggled in and out of sight, and
whispered consultations were held, about which nobody thought of being
jealous, as might have happened at any other time. Felicity was in her
element, for she and her mother were deep in preparations for the
day. Cecily and the Story Girl were excluded from these doings
with indifference on Aunt Janet's part and what seemed ostentatious
complacency on Felicity's. Cecily took this to heart and complained to
me about it.

"I'm one of this family just as much as Felicity is," she said, with as
much indignation as Cecily could feel, "and I don't think she need
shut me out of everything. When I wanted to stone the raisins for the
mince-meat she said, no, she would do it herself, because Christmas
mince-meat