d; "the boys are
foolish enough to get up a kind of dinner at the Albert, and besides,"
he added, resolutely, "I want to see Kate."

"Right you are," said the colonel; "anything else would be meaner than
snakes."

But when Ranald reached Toronto, he found disappointment awaiting him.
The Alberts were ready to give him an enthusiastic reception, but to his
dismay both Harry and Kate were absent. Harry was in Quebec and Kate
was with her mother visiting friends at the Northern Lake, so Ranald was
forced to content himself with a letter of farewell and congratulation
upon her approaching marriage. In spite of his disappointment, Ranald
could not help acknowledging a feeling of relief. It would have been
no small ordeal to him to have met Kate, to have told her how she had
helped him during his three years' absence, without letting her suspect
how much she had become to him, and how sore was his disappointment that
she could never be more than friend to him, and indeed, not even that.
But his letter was full of warm, frank, brotherly congratulation and
good will.

The dinner at the Albert was in every way worthy of the club and of the
occasion, but Ranald was glad to get it over. He was eager to get away
from the city associated in his mind with so much that was painful.

At length the last speech was made, and the last song was sung, and the
men in a body marched to the station carrying their hero with them.
As they stood waiting for the train to pull out, a coachman in livery
approached little Merrill.

"A lady wishes to see Mr. Macdonald, sir," he said, touching his hat.

"Well, she's got to be quick about it," said Merrill. "Here, Glengarry,"
he called to Ranald, "a lady is waiting outside to see you, but I say,
old chap, you will have to make it short, I guess it will be sweet
enough."

"Where is she?" said Ranald to the coachman.

"In here, sir," conducting him to the ladies' waiting-room, and taking
his place at the door outside. Ranald hurried into the room, and there
stood Kate.

"Dear Kate!" he cried, running toward her with both hands outstretched,
"this is more than kind of you, and just like your good heart."

"I only heard last night, Ranald," she said, "from Maimie, that you were
to be here to-day, and I could not let you go." She stood up looking so
brave and proud, but in spite of her, her lips quivered.

"I have waited to see you so long," she said, "and now you are going
away again."

"Don