"Spring is always a beautiful time in Elgin," she remarked. "There are
so many pretty houses here, each standing in its own grounds. Nothing
very grand, as I tell my friend, Miss Cham, from Buffalo where the
residences are, of course, on quite a different scale; but grandeur
isn't everything, is it?"

"No, indeed," said Lorne.

"But you will be leaving for Great Britain very soon now, Mr Murchison,"
said Miss Filkin. "Leaving Elgin and all its beauties! And I dare say
you won't think of them once again till you get back!"

"I hope I shall not be so busy as that, Miss Filkin."

"Oh, no, I'm sure Mr Murchison won't forget his native town altogether,"
said Mrs Milburn, "though perhaps he won't like it so well after seeing
dear old England!"

"I expect," said Lorne simply, "to like it better."

"Well, of course, we shall all be pleased if you say that, Mr
Murchison," Mrs Milburn replied graciously. "We shall feel quite
complimented. But I'm afraid you will find a great deal to criticize
when you come back--that is, if you go at all into society over there. I
always say there can be nothing like good English society."

"I want to attend a sitting of the House," Lorne said. "I hope I shall
have time for that. I want to see those fellows handling their public
business. I don't believe I shall find our men so far behind, for point
of view and grasp and dispatch. Of course there's always Wallingham to
make a standard for us all. But they haven't got so many Wallinghams."

"Wasn't it Wallingham, Louisa, that Mr Milburn was saying at breakfast
was such a dangerous man? So able, he said, but dangerous. Something to
do with the tariff."

"Oh?" said Lorne, and he said no more, for at that moment Dora came
in. She came in looking very straight and graceful and composed. Her
personal note was carried out in her pretty clothes, which hung and
"sat" upon her like the rhythm of verses; they could fall no other way.
She had in every movement the definite accent of young ladyhood; she was
very much aware of herself, of the situation, and of her value in it,
a setting for herself she saw it, and saw it truly. No one, from the
moment she entered the room, looked at anything else.

"Oh, Mr Murchison," she said. "How do you do? Mother, do you mind if I
open the window? It's quite warm out of doors--regular summer."

Lorne sprang to open the window, while Miss Filkin, murmuring that it
had been a beautiful day, moved a little far