r,--either he would win the
child or lose her. He would know which. Girls had loved men twenty years
older than themselves, and girls might again.

The Sunday passed off better than his utmost hopes. Everybody except
Elspie was cordially glad to see him. Visitors were not so common at the
Orwell Head farm-houses that they could fail of welcome. The McCloud
boys were thankful to hear all that Donald had to tell, and with the old
father and mother he had always been a prime favorite. It had been a
sore disappointment to them, as year after year went by, to see that
there seemed no likelihood of his becoming Katie's husband. As the day
wore on, even Elspie relaxed a little from her indifferent attention to
him, and began to perceive that, spite of the odious freckles, he was,
as the girls had said, a handsome man.

Partly because of this, and partly from innate coquetry, she said, when
he was taking leave, "Ye'll not be comin' again for another year,
maybe?"

"Ye'll see, then!" laughed Donald, with a sudden wise impulse to refrain
from giving the reply which sprang to his lips,--"To-morrow, if ye'd ask
me!"

And from the same wise, strangely wise impulse he curbed his desire to
go again the next Sunday and the next. Not until three weeks had passed
did he go; and then Elspie was clearly and unmistakably glad to see him.
This was all Donald wanted. "I'll win her, the bonny thing!" he said to
himself. "An' I'll not be long, either."

And he was right. A girl would have been hard indeed that would not
have been touched by the beaming, tender face which Donald wore, now
that hope lighted it up. His masterful bearing, too, was a pleasure to
the spirited Elspie, who had no liking for milksops, and had sent off
more than one lover because he came crawling too humbly to her feet.
Elspie had none of the gentle, quiet blood which ran in Katie's veins.
She had even been called Firebrand in her younger, childish days, so hot
was her temper, so hasty her tongue. But the firm rule of the Scottish
household and the pressure of the stern Scotch Calvinism preached in
their kirk had brought her well under her own control.

"Eh, but the bonny lass has hersel' well in hand," thought the admiring
Donald more than once, as he saw her in some family discussion or
controversy keep silence, with flushing cheeks, when sharp words rose to
her tongue.

All this time Katie was plodding away at her millinery, inexpressibly
cheered by Donald's