--there is the log cabin at the back of the farm, where he keeps
nothing but an incubator. It has a heavy door and only a small window.

"Man,--if we could inveigle him in there!"

The Rev. William Auld positively chuckled as he thought of it.

I knew then that he was not so very far away from his schoolboy days,
despite his age and experiences.

"When can we start in?"

He thought a little.

"The sooner the better," he said. "Joe is busy towing booms this week
and there is no possible chance of his coming home. I am not too busy
and can spare the part of three or four consecutive days for the job.

"If we can only get Margaret and Rita to agree."

"I can guarantee Rita," I said.

"And I can coerce Margaret," he put in.

"We'll arrange with the women folks to-morrow sometime, and we'll
tackle poor old Andrew the following afternoon."

The minister waited and had tea with me. It was late when he took his
departure.

Just as I was tumbling into bed, I remembered Mary Grant's letter. I
took it out of my coat pocket and opened it. It was not a letter,
after all; merely a note.

"Please,--please forgive me," it read. "You are a brave and very
gallant gentleman.

"MARY GRANT."

"George, my boy!" I soliloquised, "that ought to satisfy you."

But it did not. In the frame of mind I then was in, nothing could
possibly have propitiated me.

As I dropped to sleep, the phrase recurred again and again: "You are a
brave and very gallant gentleman." That,--maybe,--but after all a poor
and humble gentleman working for wages in a country store;--so, why
worry?

Next morning, although it was not the day any steamer was due, I ran
the white flag to the top of the pole at the point of the rocks, in the
hope that Rita would see it and take it as a signal that I wished to
speak with her; and so save me a trip across, for I expected some of
the men from the Camps and I never liked to be absent or to keep them
waiting.

Just before noon, Rita presented herself.

"Say, George!--what's the rag up for? Did you forget what day of the
week it was, or is it your birthday?

"I brought you a pie, in case it might be your anniversary. Made it
this morning."

I laughed to the bright little lass who stood before me with eyes
dancing mischievously, white teeth showing and the pink of her cheeks
glowing through the olive tint of her skin.

The more I saw of Rita, the prettier she seemed in my eyes, for she was