at the heap of chips.

"But--I--would you not be knowing?" he faltered.

"Knowing what?"

"That we--that I would be making the schoolhouse worse than ever?"

There was a sudden light in Monteith's eyes that would have surely
convinced Scotty, had he seen it, of the new master's ability to smile.

"Well, perhaps that will help to even things up a little," he said
brightly. "Come, are you willing to call it quits?"

Scotty put out his big hand swiftly, and felt it caught in a strong
bony grip. And as their hands met Monteith's stern face suddenly broke
out into an unexpected smile, a smile so brilliant and kindly that the
boy felt it illuminate his whole being, and from that moment he was the
new master's friend.

"And now," said the man, suddenly becoming grave again, "will you tell
me how you come to have two names? How does a Highland Scot like you
happen to have such a name as Stanwell?"

Scotty gasped; was he going to ignore the whitewashing altogether?

"It would be my father's," he answered simply, "but I would always be
living here with my grandfather, and I was always called MacDonald."

"Ralph Stanwell, Ralph Stanwell," repeated the schoolmaster
ruminatingly, "I've heard that name before. Why, yes; I wonder if you
are any relation to the Captain Ralph Stanwell I once met in Toronto.
The name is not common."

"My father died there, and my mother, too," was the answer.

The new master stared. "Surely, surely," he was saying, half to
himself, "it couldn't be possible; but his wife's name was MacDonald
too! And Herbert always said the child died!"

Under the man's steady gaze Scotty fidgeted with his axe in combined
amazement and embarrassment.

"Was your father's second name Everett?"

"Yes, and that will be mine, too."

The new master stared harder.

"Well, well, well," he muttered, "I wonder if he knows!"

The boy stood lost in a wild speculation. By some queer trick of
memory he was back once more in Store Thompson's shop, a little
curly-headed fellow, and felt a man's kind, playful hand upon his
curls; and at the sound of his name saw a smiling face grow suddenly
grave with amazement, fear and defiance chasing one another across it.
How was it that, all through his life, his English name seemed always
to produce consternation?

Monteith shook himself as though awakening from a dream.

"I beg your pardon," he said hastily, "your name called up some old
memories. And now, I must b