clare to you, I dreaded the
thought of this time so much that I've kept her away as long as I could
and trembled whenever a young fellow joined us while we were abroad.
Had one or two narrow escapes, and now I'm in for it, as you can see
by tonight's 'success' as Clara calls it. Thank heaven I haven't many
daughters to look after!"

"Come, come, don't be anxious take Archie and settle it right up safely
and happily. That's my advice, and you'll find it sound," replied the
elder conspirator, like one having experience.

"I'll think of it, but mind you, Mac, not a word of this to the sisters.
We are a couple of old fools to be matchmaking so soon but I see what is
before me and it's a comfort to free my mind to someone."

"So it is. Depend on me not a breath even to Jane," answered Uncle Mac,
with a hearty shake and a sympathetic slap on the shoulder.

"Why, what dark and awful secrets are going on here? Is it a Freemason's
Lodge and those the mystic signs?" asked a gay voice at the door; and
there stood Rose, full of smiling wonder at the sight of her two uncles
hand in hand, whispering and nodding to one another mysteriously.

They stared like schoolboys caught plotting mischief and looked so
guilty that she took pity on them, innocently imagining the brothers
were indulging in a little sentiment on this joyful occasion, so she
added quickly, as she beckoned, without crossing the threshold, "Women
not allowed, of course, but both of you dear Odd Fellows are wanted, for
Aunt Plenty begs we will have an old-fashioned contra dance, and I'm to
lead off with Uncle Mac. I chose you, sir, because you do it in style,
pigeon wings and all. So, please come and Phebe is waiting for you,
Uncle Alec. She is rather shy you know, but will enjoy it with you to
take care of her."

"Thank you, thank you!" cried both gentlemen, following with great
alacrity.

Unconscious, Rose enjoyed that Virginia reel immensely, for the
pigeon wings were superb, and her partner conducted her through the
convolutions of the dance without a fault, going down the middle in his
most gallant style. Landing safely at the bottom, she stood aside to let
him get his breath, for stout Uncle Mac was bound to do or die on that
occasion and would have danced his pumps through without a murmur if she
had desired it.

Leaning against the wall with his hair in his eyes, and a decidedly
bored expression of countenance, was Mac, Jr., who had been surveying
the