long to go--you have told me so."

"Yes, oh! I do long to go. It seems to me like Fairyland."

It was Mr. Percy's turn to smile now. "Not much like Fairyland," he
answered; "not half so much like it as your own Canada."

"Well, perhaps I shall see it some day, but then alone. Without mamma, I
should not care half so much."

"Are you still so much a child? 'Without mamma' would be no great
deprivation to most young ladies."

"I cannot understand that. But then we have always been together; we
could hardly live apart."

"Not even if you had--Doctor Morton for instance, to take care of you?"

Lucia laughed heartily at the idea, and Mr. Percy laughed too, though
his sentence had begun seriously enough. They were now at the gate, he
bade her good-bye, and springing on his horse, went away at a pace which
was meant to carry off a considerable amount of irritation against
himself. "I had nearly made a pretty fool of myself," he soliloquised.
"It is quite time I went away from here. But what a sweet little piece
of innocence she is, and so lovely! I do not believe anything more
perfect ever was created. Pshaw! who would have thought of _my_ turning
sentimental?"

As Lucia turned from the gate, Margery put her head round the corner of
the house, and beckoned.

"Your ma's lying down, Miss Lucia,--at least I guess so,--and she
doesn't expect you yet, and I've something to tell you."

Lucia went into the kitchen and sat down. She was feeling tired after
the heat of the day, and the excitement of her alarm, and expected only
to hear some tale of household matters. But to her surprise Margery
began, "There've been a squaw here to-day, and, you know, they don't
come much about Cacouna, thank goodness, nasty brown things--but this
one, she came with her mats and rubbish, in a canoe, to be sure. Your
ma, she was out, and I caught sight of something coming up the bank
towards the house, so I went out on the verandah to see. As soon as she
saw me, she held up her mats and says, 'Buy, buy, buy,' making believe
she knew no more English than that, but I told her we wanted none of her
goods, and then she said, 'Missis at home?' I told her no, and she said
'Where?' as impudent as possible. I told her that was none of her
business, and she'd better go; but instead of that, she took hold of my
gown, and she said "Lucia" as plain as possible. I do declare, Miss
Lucia, I did not know what to make of her, for how she should come to
kno