ow that little beast has I do, Marjorie, or you
wouldn't go hand take 'is part. Of all the hungrateful, treacherous,
sneakin', bad-'earted curs that ever gnawed a bone, 'e's the
top-sawyer."

"I don't believe it," answered Marjorie stoutly, and with all the
license allowed to a late and only child.

When the ladies took off their bonnets and rejoined their guests in the
parlour, the pedestrians were much struck with their appearance and
demeanour, especially in the case of Mrs. Carmichael, than whom no lady
could have been more gentle mannered and gracious. She had evidently had
enough of Mr. Rawdon, for she turned in the most natural way to
Wilkinson and engaged him in conversation on a variety of topics. The
schoolmaster found her a charming talker and an interested listener.
Marjorie and Coristine sat on a sofa with Muggins between them, while
the working geologist banged about some photographs on a centre table.
At dinner, to which Mrs. Thomas soon summoned them, Coristine had the
post of honour with Marjorie to his right. Mrs. Carmichael sat at the
foot of the table with Wilkinson by her side, and Rawdon was at Mrs.
Thomas' left. While doing justice to an excellent repast, the lawyer
informed his hostess that he was not an entire stranger to her family,
and gave an account of his passage in the _Susan Thomas_ from Belle
Ewart to Barrie. He also referred to Sylvanus and Timotheus, and dwelt
upon the excellent service rendered by the latter. The Grinstun man
disliked the turn things were taking, as he felt himself out in the
cold, for the widow absorbed the dominie, and Marjorie would not look at
him.

When dessert came on the table, he turned to the schoolmaster and rudely
interrupted his conversation, saying: "Look 'ere, Mr. Favosites
Wilkinsonia, I don't see as you've hany call to keep hall the widder's
talk to yourself. I move we change places," and he rose to effect the
change.

"Really," said Wilkinson, with offended dignity, "I am not accustomed to
anything of that description at a dinner party where there are ladies;
but, if it's Mrs. Carmichael's desire that we should interchange seats,
I am ready to comply."

Mrs. Carmichael evidently did not relish being called "the widder," nor
the society of Mr. Rawdon, for she answered, "Certainly not, Mr.
Wilkinson," and resumed her conversation with him. The baffled geologist
turned to the hostess, while Marjorie engaged Coristine's attention, and
in a petulant