ut, Sis?"

"Oh, nothing," said Lou, disappointedly; "only I thought you would be
more interested than you are."

He made no reply, again to his sister's astonishment, but turned to
Henty.

"A. P.," he said, "we'll meet the girl you're going to marry, when we
get to Orangeville. We'll have to change from this train to hers."

A. P. blushed ridiculously, and so did Lou. Evan pretended not to
notice, and turned his attention to the luggage.

On the way to Orangeville father and son found each other interesting.
There was still a sparkle in George Nelson's eye. Back in a double
seat Henty was bravely endeavoring to take care of two ladies, mother
and daughter.

At Orangeville, as Perry was saying his farewells to Frankie, Lou
caught her eye and beckoned to her. Not having to pass the seat where
Evan and his father were, Frankie obeyed the summons. She was
introduced to Henty, and deliberately sat beside him. "The porter"
looked sourly around and disappeared. Evan caught a girl's eye in a
mirror and left his seat. Not having seen Frankie for three years and
a half he was somewhat prepared for a change, but not for the change
that had taken place. Her cheeks were no longer round and girlish, her
voice had changed, her eyes were older and more womanly-comprehending.

"Frankie," he said, taking the little hand she offered, "it seems
mighty good to get a look at you after--all that has happened."

He fully expected that she would show embarrassment--he was inwardly
excited himself--but she answered him calmly, while Lou looked on in
wonder:

"I've been looking at you for hours, Evan--on the platform; you are
quite famous _now_, you know. Everyone waits to get a peep at you."

There was a potent rebuke in her words. Evan felt it keenly. He made
an excuse to get back to his father.

Hometon was out with the town band to meet the Nelson party. Some of
the bankclerks had driven to the depot in hacks to meet him they called
their "New G. M."

The excitement did not appeal to Evan, but he readily forgave dear old
Hometon this one excess. There was a concert arranged in the town-hall
for the evening, which, of course, had to have a chairman.

Just before the concert began old Grandpa Newman nudged John, the
grocer, sitting beside him, and whispered huskily:

"It do beat all, John, the way people carry on nowadays. Now, in my
day--"

Luckily for the grocer, the band began to badly play a march. The
ch