es in considerable
astonishment from the berg to the man.

"I mean," said he, "that under the influence of your eyes the iceberg
ought to melt straight away. They have melted my heart, Elspie, and
_That_ has been an iceberg, I find, till now."

He seized her hand. It had all come on so suddenly that poor Elspie was
quite unprepared for it. She turned as if to fly, but Daniel put his
arm round her waist and detained her.

"Elspie, dearest Elspie, it _must_ be settled now--or--." He would
not--could not--say "never."

"O Daniel, don't!" entreated Elspie.

But Daniel _did_.

"Bray-vo!" exclaimed the bo's'n with enthusiasm, for he was a
sympathetic man, though unprincipled in the matter of eavesdropping.

That cut it short. They retired precipitately from the weather gangway
abaft the main shrouds, and sought refuge in a sequestered nook near the
companion-hatch, which was, in name as well as in every other way, much
more suited to their circumstances. The steersman had his eye on them
there, but they fortunately did not know it.

Apologising for this reminiscence, we return to the thread of our story.

Mrs Davidson was seated at breakfast one morning, with all her family
around her in Prairie Cottage. She had named it thus because, from one
of the windows, there was to be had a peep of the prairies lying beyond
the bushes by which it was surrounded.

Old McKay had named his cottage Ben Nevis, either because the country
around was as flat as a pancake, or out of sheer contradictiousness.

"Have they found out anything more about the murder of that poor fellow
Perrin?" asked Mrs Davidson. "More than four months have passed since
it happened."

"Nothing more, mother," said Dan, who now filled his father's chair.
"As you say, four months have passed, and one would think that was time
enough to discover the murderer, but, you see, it is nobody's business
in particular, and we've no regular police, and everybody is far too
busy just now to think about it. In fact, not many people in these
parts care much about a murder, I fear."

"Ah if they went to see Perrin's old mother," said Jessie, "it would
oblige them to care a great deal, for he was her only son."

"Ay, her only child!" added Mrs Davidson.

While she was yet speaking, it so happened that Duncan McKay junior
himself entered the room, with that over-done free-and-easiness which
sometimes characterises a man who is ill at ease.

"Whose only chi