, too."

To William he said, "You'll take these papers up to Miss Whimple, and
you'll take luncheon with her at her house----"

"I'll--I'll--what's that?"

"Take luncheon with her."

"Gee!" said William, and then--"Say, honest, Mister Whimple, has she
gotter bunch of servants?"

"No--only two."

"A butler?"

"No--no, a maid, and a man who looks after the grounds and the horse
and that kind of work."

"Gosh, I'm glad of that. The idea of me eatin' with rich folks with
one of them solemn butlers that you read about standing behind me
chair--why, honest, I'd choke to death on the first bite."

Leaving Whimple, William marched into Simmons' office and demanded of
Lucien Torrance, "Have you gotter clean han'kerchief?"

Lucien said he had, and produced one in proof of his assertion.
William snatched it from him; seized the jug of ice water, the common
property of the occupants, soused one corner of the handkerchief, and
calmly, but vigorously, wiped his face with it, using the unwetted
portion to dry his visage. Lucien's protests had no effect on William.

"Don't get mad, Lucien," he said soothingly. "I'm invited out to eat
with a lady. I gotter keep my own han'kerchief clean, and you wouldn't
like me to go with a dirty face, I know. Just hang it outer the window
and it'll be dry in a minute," and thereupon he departed.

Miss Whimple lived a considerable distance beyond the then city limits.
She occupied what had once been a farm-house, solidly built, and
surrounded by several acres of land, including a small but excellent
orchard. She owned a good deal of land in the neighbourhood, now one
of Toronto's finest residential districts.

As William turned into the driveway leading to the front entrance, he
was hailed by a man who was cutting the grass around one of the flower
beds. "What'll you be wantin', laddie?" said the grass-cutter.

"To see Miss Whimple," answered William readily.

"And what for?"

William eyed the questioner, and with a gleam of mischief in his eyes,
replied quietly, "On business."

"Aye--business, they'll all be saying that. She'll no see ye, ma lad,
so you better be tellin' me, and maybe I'll be able to tell ye the way
to be goin' aboot it."

"What part of Scotland did you come from?" asked William sweetly. The
man glowered at him--the boy went on, "You could never deny you came
from Scotland, the thistles is just stickin' out on you in bunches."

"You're a verra cheeky