ern agent of that name. Do you
know anything about him, Harry? Who knows but he may be Allan Ruthven
of the `Steadfast.'"

"No, I thought he might be, and made inquiries," said Harry. "But that
Ruthven seems quite an old fogey. He has been in the employment of that
firm ever since the flood,--at least, a long time. Do you mind Allan
Ruthven, Menie?"

"Mind him!" That she did. Menie was very quiet to-night, saying
little, but listening happily as she lay on the sofa, with her head on
Graeme's knee.

"Allan was the first one I heard say our Menie was a beauty," said
Norman. "Menie, do you mind?"

Menie laughed. "Yes, I mind."

"But I think Rosie was his pet. Graeme, don't you mind how he used to
walk up and down the deck, with Rosie in his arms?"

"But that was to rest Graeme," said Harry. "Miss Rosie was a small
tyrant in those days."

Rosie shook her head at him.

"Eh! wasna she a cankered fairy?" said Norman, taking Rosie's fair face
between his hands. "Graeme had enough ado with you, I can tell you."

"And with you, too. Never heed him, Rosie," said Graeme, smiling at her
darling.

"I used to admire Graeme's patience on the `Steadfast'," said Harry.

"I did that before the days of the `Steadfast,'" said Arthur.

Rosie pouted her pretty lips.

"I must have been an awful creature."

"Oh! awful," said Norman.

"A spoilt bairn, if ever there was one," said Harry. "I think I see you
hiding your face, and refusing to look at any of us."

"I never thought Graeme could make anything of you," said Norman.

"Graeme has though," said the elder sister, laughing. "I wouldna give
my bonny Scottish Rose, for all your western lilies, Norman."

And so they went on, jestingly.

"Menie," said Arthur, suddenly, "what do you see in the fire?"

Menie was gazing with darkening eyes, in among the red embers. She
started when her brother spoke.

"I see--Oh! many things. I see our old garden at home,--in Clayton, I
mean--and--"

"It must be an imaginary garden, then. I am sure you canna mind that."

"Mind it! indeed I do. I see it as plainly as possible, just as it used
to be. Only somehow, the spring and summer flowers all seem to be in
bloom together. I see the lilies and the daisies, and the tall white
rose-bushes blossoming to the very top."

"And the broad green walk," said Harry.

"And the summer-house."

"And the hawthorn hedge."

"And the fir trees, dark and high."

"And the tw