decorous and patient attitude of a gentleman making a call.

He had no feeling, Kitty said to herself; but that is a matter about
which we can easily be wrong. It was rather to be said of Mr. Arbuton
that he had always shrunk from knowledge of things outside of a very
narrow world, and that he had not a ready imagination. Moreover, he had
a personal dislike, as I may call it, of poverty; and he did not enjoy
this poverty as she did, because it was strange and suggestive, though
doubtless he would have done as much to relieve distress.

"Rather too much of his autobiography," he said to Kitty, as he waited
outside the door with her, while the Canadian quieted his dog, which was
again keeping himself in practice of catching the moose by making
vicious leaps at the horse's nose. "The egotism of that kind of people
is always so aggressive. But I suppose he's in the habit of throwing
himself upon the sympathy of summer visitors in this way. You can't
offer a man so little as shilling and sixpence who's taken you into his
confidence. Did you find enough that was novel in his place to justify
him in bringing us here, Miss Ellison?" he asked with an air he had of
taking you of course to be of his mind, and which equally offended you
whether you were so or not.

Every face that they had seen in their drive had told its pathetic story
to Kitty; every cottage that they passed she had entered in thought, and
dreamed out its humble drama. What their host had said gave breath and
color to her fancies of the struggle of life there, and she was startled
and shocked when this cold doubt was cast upon the sympathetic tints of
her picture. She did not know what to say at first; she looked at Mr.
Arbuton with a sudden glance of embarrassment and trouble; then she
answered, "I was very much interested. I don't agree with you, I
believe"; which, when she heard it, seemed a resentful little speech,
and made her willing for some occasion to soften its effect. But nothing
occurred to her during the brief drive back to the boat, save the fact
that the morning air was delicious.

"Yes, but rather cool," said Mr. Arbuton, whose feelings apparently had
not needed any balm; and the talk fell again to the others.

On the pier he helped her down from the wagon, for the colonel was
intent on something the driver was saying, and then offered his hand to
Mrs. Ellison.

She sprang from her place, but stumbled slightly, and when she touched
the groun