n Old Ontario and Winnipeg.

And here it was that Elizabeth's enthusiasm had become in her brother's
eyes a folly; that something wild had stirred in her blood, and sitting
there in her shady hat at the rear of the train, her eyes pursuing the
great track which her father had helped to bring into being, she shook
Europe from her, and felt through her pulses the tremor of one who
watches at a birth, and looks forward to a life to be--

"Dinner is ready, my lady."

"Thank Heaven!" cried Philip Gaddesden, springing up. "Get some
champagne, please, Yerkes."

"Philip!" said his sister reprovingly, "it is not good for you to have
champagne every night."

Philip threw back his curly head, and grinned.

"I'll see if I can do without it to-morrow. Come along, Elizabeth."

They passed through the outer saloon, with its chintz-covered sofas and
chairs, past the two little bedrooms of the car, and the tiny kitchen to
the dining-room at the further end. Here stood a man in steward's livery
ready to serve, while from the door of the kitchen another older man,
thin and tanned, in a cook's white cap and apron, looked
benevolently out.

"Smells good, Yerkes!" said Gaddesden as he passed.

The cook nodded.

"If only her ladyship'll find something she likes," he said, not without
a slight tone of reproach.

"You hear that, Elizabeth?" said her brother as they sat down to the
well-spread board.

Elizabeth looked plaintive. It was one of her chief weaknesses to wish
to be liked--adored, perhaps, is the better word--by her servants and
she generally accomplished it. But the price of Yerkes's affections
was too high.

"It seems to me that we have only just finished luncheon, not to speak
of tea," she said, looking in dismay at the menu before her. "Phil, do
you wish to see me return home like Mrs. Melhuish?"

Phil surveyed his sister. Mrs. Melhuish was the wife of their local
clergyman in Hampshire; a poor lady plagued by abnormal weight, and a
heart disease.

"You might borrow pounds from Mrs. Melhuish, and nobody would ever know.
You really are too thin, Lisa--a perfect scarecrow. Of course Yerkes
sees that he could do a lot for you. All the same, that's a pretty gown
you've got on--an awfully pretty gown," he repeated with emphasis,
adding immediately afterwards in another tone--"Lisa!--I say!--you're
not going to wear black any more?"

"No"--said Lady Merton, "no--I am not going to wear black any more." The
words cam