pt her as their own daughter in her mother's place."

It would be impossible to depict the scene that followed, the surprise
and delight of Miss Gladden, or the deep joy of Morton Rutherford, but
by and by, when they had become more calm, a knock was heard. Houston
opened the door, and Ned Rutherford, looking in, was entirely unable
to comprehend the scene. Houston held in his hand a small gold locket
and a photograph which he seemed to be comparing with each other. Lyle
looked very pale, but radiantly happy. Morton was standing near,
while Miss Gladden still knelt at her side, her eyes overflowing with
tears of joy.

"Come in, Ned," said Houston cordially. "We want you here to complete
the family group."

Ned looked rather bewildered, as he replied: "I just wanted to inquire
for Miss Maverick, to know if she was better."

"She is much better," said Houston with a smile, but before he could
say anything further, Morton turned toward his brother, saying in
gentle, quiet tones, but with a look in his eye which spoke volumes to
Ned's inner consciousness:

"Ned, this is Miss Maverick no longer, but Miss Washburn, the
grand-daughter of the Mr. Cameron whom we expect here to-morrow."

Poor Ned Rutherford! If he had ever laid any claim to dignity and
self-possession, they both deserted him now. Utterly bereft of speech,
he stood for a moment as if petrified. Then approaching Lyle, he
stammered:

"I beg your pardon, Miss,--Miss Washburn, but that is always Mort's
way, to spring anything on me in such a fashion as to knock me out
completely. I beg your pardon for appearing so stupid, and I
congratulate you on the good news, and extend you my best wishes,
Miss----"

"Oh, call me Lyle," she interrupted, with a rippling laugh. "I have a
right to that name yet."

"Is that so?" said Ned, with the air of a drowning man clutching at a
straw. "Thank you; I'm glad that's left for a sort of land mark, you
know. I'll call you 'Lyle' then, 'till I can get accustomed to the new
name," and he sank in a heap in the nearest chair.

The letter was read, and bitter were the denunciations against
Maverick.

"The scoundrel! He ought to be lynched this very night," said Ned.
"That's the way they do those things out here."

"Not late years, Ned," corrected his brother, "and even if they did,
that would not be best."

"It is a question with me," said Houston, "situated just as we are at
present, and with Mr. Cameron expected in a few