s
flirtation. Graeme did not think so, or, if she did, it did not make
her angry as it would have made Harry; for though she said little,
except to the grave wee Rosie Nasmyth, whom she had taken under her
care, she looked very bright and glad. Rose looked at her once or
twice, a little startled, and after a while, in watching her, evidently
lost the thread of the minister's entertaining discourse, and answered
him at random.

"I have a note from Harry," said Graeme, as they left the tea-table.
"Here it is. Go and take off your habit. You look hot and tired."

In a little while the visitors were gone and Mr Millar was being put
through a course of questions by Mr Snow. Graeme sat and listened to
them, and thought of Rose, who, all the time, was sitting up-stairs with
Harry's letter in her hand.

It was not a long letter. Rose had time to read it a dozen times over,
Graeme knew, but still she lingered, for a reason she could not have
told to any one, which she did not even care to make very plain to
herself. Mr Snow was asking, and Mr Millar was answering, questions
about Scotland, and Will, and Mr Ruthven, and every word that was said
was intensely interesting to her; and yet, while she listened eagerly,
and put in a word now and then that showed how much she cared, she was
conscious all the time, that she was listening for the sound of a
movement overhead, or for her sister's footstep on the stair. By and
by, as Charlie went on, in answer to Mr Snow's questions, to tell about
the state of agriculture in his native shire, her attention wandered
altogether, and she listened only for the footsteps.

"She may perhaps think it strange that I do not go up at once. I
daresay it is foolish in me. Very likely this news will be no more to
her than to me."

"Where is your sister?" said Mrs Snow, who, as well as Graeme, had been
attending to two things at once. "I doubt the foolish lassie has tired
herself with riding too far."

"I will go and see," said Graeme.

Before she entered her sister's room Rose called to her.

"Is it you, Graeme? What do you think of Harry's news? He has not lost
much time, has he?"

"I was surprised," said Graeme.

Rose was busy brushing her hair.

"Surprised! I should think so. Did you ever think such a thing might
happen, Graeme?"

This was Harry's letter.

"My Dear Sisters,--I have won my Amy! You cannot be more astonished
than I am. I know I am not good enough