imself with the others. He has nothing in common
with them."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that Maimie," said Kate; "I will talk to
Ranald." But Maimie was not quite sure how she should like that.

"You are just your Aunt Frank over again," said Harry, in a disgusted
tone; "clothes and people!"

Maimie was almost in tears.

"I think you are both very unkind. You know Ranald won't enjoy it. He
will be quite miserable, and--they'll just laugh at him!"

"Well, they'd better laugh at him when he isn't observing," said Harry.

"Do you think Ranald would really mind?" interposed Kate, addressing
Harry. "Do you think he will feel shy and awkward? Perhaps we'd better
have him another evening."

"No," said Harry, decidedly; "he is coming, and he's coming on Sunday
evening. He can't get off any other night, and besides, I'd have to lie
to him, and he has an unpleasant way of finding you out when you are
doing it, and once he does find out why he is not asked for Sunday
evening, then you may say good by to him for good and all."

"Oh, no fear of that," said Maimie, confidently; "Ranald has good sense,
and I know he will come again."

"Well," cried Harry, "if you are not going to treat him as you would
treat De Lacy and that idiotic Sims, I won't bring him!" And with that
he flung out of the room.

But Harry changed his mind, for next Sunday evening as the young ladies
with De Lacy and his friend were about to sit down to supper in their
private parlor, Harry walked in with Ranald, and announced in triumph:
"The man from Glengarry!" Maimie looked at him in dismay, and indeed she
well might, for Ranald was dressed in his most gorgeous shanty array,
with red flannel shirt and silk handkerchief, and trousers tucked into
his boots. Sims gazed at him as if he were an apparition. It was Kate
who first broke the silence.

"We are delighted to see you," she cried, going forward to Ranald with
hands outstretched; "you are become quite a hero in this town."

"Quite, I assure you," said the lieutenant, in a languid voice, but
shaking Ranald heartily by the hand.

Then Maimie came forward and greeted him with ceremonious politeness
and introduced him to Mr. Sims, who continued to gaze at the shantyman's
attire with amused astonishment.

The supper was not a success; Ranald sat silent and solemn, eating
little and smiling not at all, although Mr. Sims executed his very best
jokes. Maimie was nervous and visibly distressed, and a