ard to traverse, and when at
length they went down the hill between the high rocks of the
portage trail, Katherine heard a faint rippling sound which warned
her that the waters were beginning to flow. The store was crowded
with men, as was often the case in the late afternoon, and
Katherine's hope of being able to tell her father the news quietly
was doomed to disappointment. Her first glance at him told her
that he knew all there was to be known, and the look of suffering
on his face hurt her all the more because she knew there was no
balm for his pain. Miles was doing what was necessary in the store
under his father's direction, and, because there seemed no need for
her assistance just then, Katherine went on indoors to get a little
rest before it was time for evening school.

"Oh, Katherine, have you heard the news?" cried Mrs. Burton, who
was knitting stockings and reciting "Old Mother Hubbard" between
whiles to the twins.

"Yes; at least, I have heard about Mr. Selincourt coming, if that
is what you mean," Katherine answered, as she unfastened her outer
garments.

"That is not the best part of the news by any means," returned Mrs.
Burton, giving Lotta a little shake to silence the demand for more
of "Mother Hubbard". "What delights me so much is to think that
Miss Selincourt is coming too. Just imagine what it will be to
have cultured society here at Roaring Water Portage!"

"She will despise us, most likely, and consider us about on a level
with Peter M'Crawney's wife, or that poor little Mrs. Jenkin," said
Katherine.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Burton's tone was energetic; her manner one of
mild surprise. "No one would despise you. They might look down
upon me a little, but you are quite a different matter."

"Perhaps I am," replied Katherine. "But somehow I have got the
feeling in my bones that Miss Selincourt and I shall not fall in
love with each other."

"I expect that what you have really got in your bones is a touch of
rheumatism from wading through wet snow," Mrs. Burton said
anxiously. "Dear, you must take care of yourself, for what would
become of us all if you were to fall ill?"

Katherine laughed, only there was not much mirth in the sound.
"There is nothing the matter with me, nor likely to be, for I am
tough as shoe leather; only sometimes my temper gets knobby,
because all the children I can find to teach are grown-up babies of
thirty and forty, who prefer flirting to arithmetic, and hav