w hat (the first to see the light
of summer) with a green ribbon about the crown,--together with a white
waistcoat and white spats, the whole enriched by a red rose bud which
Corinne had with her own hands pinned in his buttonhole.

"Why, hello! Jack, old man! just the very fellow I'm looking for," cried
the joyous traveller. "You going to New York?--So am I,--go every day
now,--got something on ice,--the biggest thing I've ever struck. I'll
show that uncle of yours that two can play at his game. He hasn't lifted
his hand to help us, and I don't want him to,--Cory and I can get along;
but you'd think he'd come out and see us once in a while, wouldn't you,
or ask after the baby; Mrs. Breen comes, but not Breen. We live in the
country and have tar on our heels, he thinks. Here,--sit by the window!
Now let's talk of something else. How's Miss Ruth and the governor? He's
a daisy;--best engineer anywhere round here. Yes, Cory's all right. Baby
keeps her awake half the night; I've moved out and camp upstairs;
can't stand it. Oh, by the way, I see you are about finishing up on the
railroad work. I'll have something to say to you next week on the damage
question. Got all the reports in last night. I tell you, my old chief,
Mr. Morris, is a corker! What he doesn't know about masonry isn't worth
picking up;--can't fool him! That's what's the matter with half of our
younger men; they sharpen lead-pencils, mix ink, and think they are
drawing; or they walk down a stone wall and don't know any more what's
behind it and what holds it up than a child. Mr. Morris can not only
design a wall, but he can teach some first-class mechanics how to lay
it."

Jack looked out the window and watched the fences fly past. For the
moment he made no reply to Garry's long harangue--especially the part
referring to the report. Anxious as he was to learn the result of the
award, he did not want the facts from the chairman of the committee in
advance of the confirmation by the Council.

"What is it you have on ice, Garry?" he asked at last with a laugh,
yielding to an overpowering conviction that he must change the
subject--"a new Corn Exchange? Nobody can beat you in corn exchanges."

"Not by a long shot, Jack,--got something better; I am five thousand
ahead now, and it's all velvet."

"Gold-mine, Garry?" queried Jack, turning his head. "Another Mukton
Lode? Don't forget poor Charlie Gilbert; he's been clerking it ever
since, I hear."

"No, a big