ur hired man, you know," he added.

"What about him?" asked Harding.

"He's always eaten with us," Bishop said. "He's a quiet, well-behaved
sorter chap, and he's company for us, but mother is afraid it wouldn't
be just the thing to have him at the table when company's here, and so I
thought I'd ask you and Jack. We don't have folks here very often, and I
wanter do what's right."

"You have him sit right down with us," promptly advised Harding. "If
there's anybody in this country who has a right to eat good and plenty
it's a hired man. If any of our folks don't like it, let them wait until
the second table."

That settled it, and I could see that Bishop was pleased over the
outcome.

"I sorter hated to tell Wallace to wait," he said to me after Harding
had turned away. "It might offend him. He's a queer fish, but has the
makings of the best hired man in the county."

When we entered the big dining-room Wallace was sitting in one corner
reading. He laid aside the book, arose and bowed slightly. Harding went
right up to him.

"Mr. Wallace, I believe," he said, shaking hands. "My name's Harding,
and I'll introduce you to the rest of us." And he did.

This young Scotchman is a handsome chap. His features are those of Byron
in his early manhood. His hair is dark and wavy as it falls back from a
smooth high forehead. He is tall, broad of shoulder and singularly easy
and graceful in his movements. He certainly looks like a man who has
seen better days.

I am still inclined to my original opinion that he is some college chap
who is trying to get a financial start so as to enter on his chosen
profession.

He sat opposite me, and not until the first course was served did I
notice that he was to the right of Miss Lawrence, with LaHume to her
left. When I first observed this trio Miss Lawrence and Wallace already
were engaged in a spirited conversation--or, more properly speaking,
Miss Lawrence was.

There was a babble of voices and of laughter, and I could make out
little they were saying during the early part of the dinner, though I
was so impolite as to attempt to do so. Miss Lawrence was praising the
scenic beauties of Woodvale and its environs, he adding a word or a
sentence now and then with the tact of one pleased to listen to the
chatter of a charming companion. The trace of Scotch in his enunciation
was so slight as to defy reproduction, but it was sufficient to stamp
the place of his nativity.

LaHume made