on the point of saying that I thought perhaps
you had ideas like--er--like your mother's."

Dorothy raised her eyebrows.

"Like the Mater's?"

"About a man being big and prominent, and all that, you know,"
floundered young Nisbet. "She always makes such a point of Barclay's
being Lieutenant-Governor--I thought you might be for the same kind of
thing."

Dorothy looked him over, with a whimsical smile, as he was speaking.
There was a deep bronze light in his close-cropped, ruddy hair, and his
skin was very smooth and clean. His eyes were appealing, with that
unspeakable eloquence of simple honesty which is almost pathetic. Under
his blue cloth coat, the great muscles of his shoulders and chest stood
out magnificently, rippling the fabric as he stirred, as if eager to
throw off their trammels, and be given free play. About him there was a
distinct suggestion of sane living and regular exercise. For all his
freckles, and his nose that was too little, and his mouth that was too
large, "the ugliest of the Nisbet boys"--he had often been called
that!--was very emphatically good to look upon.

"A big man?" answered Dorothy. "Yes, I think I should like to marry a
big man. I want him very clean, too--_very_ clean!--morally, as well as
otherwise. And honest as the day is long. And not _too_ bright! I don't
want to be continually trying to live up to his brain, and continually
failing. It is fatal to one's self-respect, that sort of thing. Then, he
must be heels over head in love with me--for keeps! And then--oh, he
must be a _man_, a man through and through, who wouldn't think anything
he didn't dare to say, nor say anything he didn't dare to do! That's
what I want, and if I can get it, all the prominence in the world may
go hang!"

"That's just about John Barclay, though," said young Nisbet, "with the
prominence thrown in."

"Well, I'm not saying I wouldn't have married John Barclay, if I'd had
the chance. He comes pretty close to being all I would ask for, in the
way of a man. But, unfortunately, there's only one John Barclay, and,
like the rest of the world, he looked directly over poor little Me's
shoulders, and saw only Natalie. Good gracious! Who could blame him?
She's the loveliest little thing in the world! But, at all events, she
nabbed him, so all that is left for me to do is to grin and bear the
disappointment as best I may. He's very much of a man, John Barclay is!"

"Yes," assented young Nisbet, somewhat mo