side of the
garden. There were two or three people with him, but it seemed as if for
a moment he had forgotten them--had forgotten where he was. I wondered
suddenly if his daughter had been fond of irises. He was looking at them
with such a tender, lost expression. The girl, who was a lovely, fair
thing, was standing quite close to him with her hand in his arm, and she
was smiling, too--such a smile!

"Mr. Le Breton!" Mr. MacNairn said in a rather startled tone. "The girl
with her hand in his arm?"

"Yes. You see how fair she is," I answered.

"And she has that transparent look. It is so lovely. Don't you think so?
SHE is one of the White People."

He stood very still, looking across the flowers at the group. There was
a singular interest and intensity in his expression. He watched the pair
silently for a whole minute, I think.

"Ye-es," he said, slowly, at last, "I do see what you mean--and it IS
lovely. I don't seem to know her well. She must be a new friend of my
mother's. So she is one of the White People?"

"She looks like a white iris herself, doesn't she?" I said. "Now you
know."

"Yes; now I know," he answered.

I asked Mrs. MacNairn later who the girl was, but she didn't seem to
recognize my description of her. Mr. Le Breton had gone away by that
time, and so had the girl herself.

"The tall, very fair one in the misty, pale-gray dress," I said. "She
was near Mr. Le Breton when he was looking at the iris-bed. You were
cutting some roses only a few yards away from her. That VERY fair girl?"

Mrs. MacNairn paused a moment and looked puzzled.

"Mildred Keith is fair," she reflected, "but she was not there then. I
don't recall seeing a girl. I was cutting some buds for Mrs. Anstruther.
I--" She paused again and turned toward her son, who was standing
watching us. I saw their eyes meet in a rather arrested way.

"It was not Mildred Keith," he said. "Miss Muircarrie is inquiring
because this girl was one of those she calls the White People. She was
not any one I had seen here before."

There was a second's silence before Mrs. MacNairn smilingly gave me one
of her light, thrilling touches on my arm.

"Ah! I remember," she said. "Hector told me about the White People. He
rather fancied I might be one."

I am afraid I rather stared at her as I slowly shook my head. You see
she was almost one, but not quite.

"I was so busy with my roses that I did not notice who was standing near
Mr. Le Breton," sh