acquaintances that summer, and very pleasant ones, too.
Arthur used sometimes to bring home to their six o'clock dinner, a
friend or two of his clients from the country, or a young lawyer, or
lawyer's clerk, to whom the remembrance of his own first lonely days in
the city made him wish to show kindness. There were two or three gay
French lads of the latter class who, strange to say, had taken a great
liking to the grave and steady Arthur, and who often came to pass an
evening at his pleasant fireside. Graeme was shy of them for a while,
not being clear as to the principles and practice of the French as a
people, and as for Rose, the very sight of these polite moustached
gentlemen suggested historical names and events, which it was not at all
comfortable to think about. But those light-hearted Canadian lads soon
proved themselves to be as worthy of esteem as though English had been
their mother tongue. Very agreeable visitors they were, with their nice
gentlemanly manners, their good humour, and their music; and far better
subjects for the exercise of Rosie's French than the old market women
were, and in a little while they never came but they were kindly
welcomed.

This was a busy time, too. Graeme taught Rosie English, and they
studied together French and German, and music; and were in a fair way,
Harry declared, of becoming a pair of very learned ladies indeed. Very
busy and happy ladies they were, which was a matter of greater
importance. And if sometimes it came into Graeme's mind that the life
they were living was too pleasant to last, the thought did not make her
unhappy, but humble and watchful, lest that which was pleasant in their
lot should make them forgetful of life's true end.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

"It is just three years to-night since we came to M. Did you remember
it, Arthur?" said Graeme, looking up from her work.

"Is it possible that it can be three years?" said Arthur, in surprise.

"It has been a very happy time," said Graeme.

Rose left her book, and came and seated herself on the arm of her
brother's chair. Arthur took the cigar from his lips, and gently puffed
the smoke into his sister's face. Rose did not heed it.

"Three years!" repeated she. "I was quite a child then."

The others laughed, but Rose went on without heeding.

"It rained that night, and then we had a great many hot, dusty days.
How well I remember the time! Graeme was ill and homesick, and we
wished so m