ell you about your little heretic."

Charles Osmond looked up anxiously.

"It is as you thought," continued his brother. "Slight curvature of the
spine. She's a brave little thing; I don't wonder you are interested in
her."

"It means a long rest, I suppose?"

"Yes, I told her a year in a recumbent posture; for I fancy she is
one of those restless beings who will do nothing at all unless you are
pretty plain with them. It is possible that six or eight months may be
sufficient."

"How did she take it?"

"Oh, in the pluckiest way you can conceive! Tried to laugh at the
prospect, wanted me to measure her to see how much she grew in the time,
and said she should expect at least three inches to reward her."

"A Raeburn could hardly be deficient in courage. Luke Raeburn is without
exception the bravest man I ever met."

"And I'd back his daughter against any woman I know," said the doctor.

He left the room, but the news he had brought caused a long pause in his
brother's sermon.

CHAPTER XII. Raeburn's Homecoming

He is a man both loving and severe,
A tender heart, a will inflexible. Longfellow

Luke Raeburn had been lecturing in one of the large manufacturing towns.
It was the hottest part of a sultry day in June. He was returning home,
and sat in a broiling third-class carriage reading a paper. Apparently
what he read was the reverse of gratifying for there was a look of
annoyance on his usually serene face; he was displeased with the report
of his lecture given in the local papers, it was calculated to mislead
very greatly.

Other matters, too, were harassing him just then and he was, moreover,
paying the penalty of his two years' campaign, in which his almost
superhuman exertions and the privations he had voluntarily endured had
told severely upon his health. Possessed of a singularly well-regulated
mind, and having in an unusual degree the inestimable gift of common
sense, he nevertheless often failed to use it in his personal affairs.
He had no idea of sparing himself, no idea of husbanding his
strength; this was indeed great, but he treated himself as if it were
inexhaustible. The months of trouble had turned his hair quite white; he
was now a more noticeable-looking man than ever.

Not unfrequently he made friends with the men with whom he traveled; he
was always studying life from the workingman's point of view, and
there was such a charm in his genial manner and ready sympathy that