and the
doctor must come and see the red tickets on them. Gilbert started off
through the crowd, but fell a captive by the way. As he passed a
Gaelic-speaking group of checked shawls he was grasped violently by the
sleeve and forced into the circle.

"There she will be now. Jist be takin' a look at her, whatefer. Och,
hoch! this is what you would be doing!" And the young doctor smiled
radiantly and blushed like a schoolboy, for there was Mrs. McKitterick
herself, surrounded by an admiring crowd, and enjoying her first show
in ten years! The hero was petted and praised in two languages, and
clapped on the back and admired, until he was overwhelmed with
confusion. He was rescued from his embarrassment by the impatient
orphan and dragged off to witness the triumph of Isaac and Rebekah.
When the geese had been sufficiently admired, and even poor Keturah's
small achievement duly noted, the doctor escaped, and making a wide
detour of the tartan shawls, found his way to the grand-stand. Here,
seated on the dry pine-needles, under a spreading tree, was a group of
three: Malcolm Cameron, with his sister and the minister's daughter.

"Hello, doctor!" cried the boy joyfully. "I've been looking all over
for you. Come along. We're going to the hall."

"What's to be seen there?" asked Gilbert, helping the ladies to rise.

"Well, for one thing, there's your new mitts."

"Hush, Malcolm!" cried his sister. "Mrs. McKitterick wanted it kept a
secret."

"Great Caesar! Would you let a pair of shackles like that be sprung on
an innocent man without a moment's warning?"

"What's this?" asked Gilbert, in the alarm that the name of old Mrs.
McKitterick always raised in his breast. "What's going to happen now?"

"It's only a pair of mittens, Dr. Allen," said Miss Marjorie. "Mrs.
McKitterick knit them, and if they take first prize they are to be
given to you."

"It was too bad to tell," said Elsie.

"No, it wasn't!" cried her brother. "They're to be presented to him at
Christmas, and he'll need three months to get resigned. Come along and
see them."

As they threaded their way toward the hall Malcolm glanced at the other
young man significantly. Gilbert understood.

"Miss Cameron," he said, "I am all alone in my buggy. Won't you drive
home with me?"

She glanced up at him with one of her swift, searching looks. "Did
Malcolm ask you to relieve him?" she whispered. This strong, grave
girl did not often laugh,