he was trying to efface himself in a corner he found her at his side.
She wanted to talk about the good old times, she whispered, as she
pulled him down beside her on the low window sill. "They were just the
loveliest old times, weren't they, Scotty? And don't you hate to be
grown up?" she asked.

Hate it? Scotty gloried in it. It was a new birth. He tried to say
so, but Isabel shook her head emphatically.

"Well, I don't, and you wouldn't in my place, for I can't run in the
bush any more. Aunt Eleanor bewails me; she says I've been spoiled by
Kirsty, for I can't settle down to a proper life in the city. The
backwoods is the best place, isn't it, Scotty?"

He drew a long breath. "Do you mean you'd really like to come here and
live with--with Kirsty again?" he asked.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" she cried, her eyes sparkling so that Scotty had to
look away. "It was never dull here. Don't you wish I'd come back,
too?"

Scotty felt his head reeling. "I--don't know," he faltered ungallantly.

"You don't know?" she echoed indignantly. "Scotty MacDonald, how can
you say such a mean thing?"

Scotty looked up with a sudden desperate boldness.

"Because I wouldn't be doing any work if you were here," he exclaimed
with a recklessness that appalled even himself.

Isabel laughed delightedly. "That's lovely," she cried. "Do you know,
I was beginning to be afraid, _almost_, that you weren't just very glad
to see me, and--and you always used to be. You _are_ glad I came,
aren't you, Scotty?"

Like a timid swimmer, who, having once plunged in, discovers his own
strength and gains courage, Scotty struck out boldly into the
conversational sea.

"It was the best thing that ever happened in all my life," he answered
deliberately.

She was prevented from receiving this important declaration with the
consideration it deserved by a sudden silence falling over the room.
The minister was standing up in the centre of the room, clearing his
throat and looking around portentously. The ceremony was about to
commence, and all conversation was instantly hushed. Mothers quieted
their babies, and the men came clumsily tiptoeing indoors. Whenever
possible the more ceremonious precincts of the house were left to the
more adaptable sex, the masculine portion of such assemblies always
retiring to the greater freedom of the barn and outbuildings. Now they
came crowding in, however, obviously embarrassed, but when the minister
stood