ht, trim figure, that impressed the child.
The other two strangers stood back by the stove; one, a tall lady, the
rustle of whose black silk dress gave Scotty a feeling of awe, the
other a tiny girl, so wrapped up in furs and shawls that he could see
nothing of her, except a bunch of golden curls.

"What's the matter with the confounded little fire-eater?" asked the
man, coming forward.

"It's all his kin that's in yon fecht oot by, sir," said Store
Thompson's wife apologetically. "The puir wee mannie!"

"Oh, I see; he's starting early. I never come to the Glen but you
entertain me with a battle, James. A bad crowd, those fellows from the
Flats. What's your name, youngster? Murphy, eh?"

"NO!" Scotty shouted the refutation in indignant horror. This was
worse than being English! "It will be MacDonald!"

"Oh, by Jove, one of the Fighting MacDonalds!" The man burst into a
hearty laugh. "I might have known."

"But yon's not yer real name, laddie," said Store Thompson's wife.
"Tell Captain Herbert yer name; it's jist a fine one. He's Big Malcolm
MacDonald's grandson, Captain, but his faether was an English
gentleman, like yersel, an' his mither was a bonny, bonny bit lassie;
aye, an' puir Marget lost her."

The man was gazing down at the boy absorbedly. "What's his name?" he
demanded sharply. But Scotty stood silent and scowling. Confess his
disgrace to this man whom he knew Granddaddy despised? Never!

"His patronymic," said Store Thompson ceremoniously, "is Stanwell,
Captain; and his baptismal name is jist the same as his father's was,
Ralph Everett; Ralph Everett Stanwell!"

When Store Thompson delivered himself of any such high-sounding speech
he was always rewarded by signs of a deep impression made upon his
hearers. He had come to look for such results; but he was totally
unprepared for the expression of aghast wonder that his words produced
in the face of Captain Herbert.

"Stanwell!" he cried, "Ralph Stanwell!" He glanced hurriedly at the
two standing at the other end of the shop and an expression of relief
passed over his face when he saw the tall lady was not attending. "It
can't be!" he said, lowering his tone, "Captain Stanwell's child died
with the parents!"

"No, sir," said Store Thompson wonderingly. "Big Malcolm an' his son
brought him from Toronto when he was jist an infant."

The man still stood gazing down at the boy. Scotty's face was dark
with anger. Store Thompson, who