table.

"I couldn't walk in such heavy boots. And it's raining again. It
rained last night. Does it rain every day in Canada? We ought to go
back. Do let's, and try this some other time. I reckon this will
finish my new suit, entirely."

Winifred put her arms akimbo and stared at her new friend. Then burst
into a hearty laugh over Dorothy's disgusted face.

"Ha, ha, ha! And 'I reckon,' little southerner, that you'll be a more
sensible girl after you've lived up here a while. The idea of turning
back because it rains! absurd! Why, it's fine, just fine! The Lady
Principal will overhaul your fair-weather-clothes and see that you get
some fit to stand anything. This homespun suit of mine couldn't get
wet through if it tried! But I shan't stand here, in the middle of a
plowed field, and let it try. Come on. Its the States against the
Province! Who'll win?"

"I will! For old Maryland and the President!" cried Dorothy, and
valiantly strode forward again.

"For our Province and the King!" shouted the Canadian; and after that
neither spoke, till the long walk ended before the cottage door of old
John Gilpin and his dame. There Winifred gave a smart tap to the panel
and holding her hand toward Dorothy, cried:

"Quits, Queen Baltimore! We'll call it even and I'll never doubt your
pluck again. But you certainly must get some decent clothes--if I have
to buy them myself!"

Then the door opened and there stood old John, peering from the
lamp-lighted room into the twilight without. After a second he
recognized Dorothy and drew her in, exclaiming joyfully:

"Why, Dame, 'tis our little lass herself! Her of the night last spent
and the helping hand! Step ben, step ben, and 'tother miss with ye.
You're surely welcome as the flowers in spring."

Mrs. Gilpin came ponderously forward, a smile on her big but comely
face, and silently greeted both visitors, while her more nimble
husband promptly "step-an'-fetched" the best chairs in the room and
placed them before the fire.

"Dry yourselves, lassies, whilst I tell the Robin you've come to see
him. He'll be that proud, poor laddie, to have Oak Knowe young ladies
pay him that honor! and he's mending fine, mending fine, doctor says.
The mother--"

He disappeared within that inner chamber still talking and as happy
now as he had seemed sorrowful when Dorothy parted from him on the
night before. Then he had anticipated nothing less than death for the
boy he loved, despite the doctor'