d the girls, too," said Tim, allowing his solemn
face the unusual luxury of a smile.

"The girls?"

"Aw, yeh know well enough--the Murray girls, and the MacKenzies, and the
hull lot of them. And then--and then--there's Mandy, too." Here Tim shot
a keen glance at his friend, who now sat leaning against the trunk of an
apple tree with his eyes closed.

"Now, Tim, you are a shrewd little chap"--here Cameron sat upright--"but
how do you know about the girls, and what is this you say about Mandy?
Mandy is good to me--very kind and all that, but--"

"She used to like Perkins pretty well," said Tim, with a kind of
hesitating shyness.

"And Perkins?"

"Oh, he thought he jist owned her. Guess he ain't so sure now," added
Tim. "I guess you've changed Mandy all right."

It was the one thing Cameron hated to hear, but he made light of it.

"Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed. "But if I did I would be mighty glad of
it. Mandy is too good for a man like Perkins. Why, he isn't safe."

"He's a terror," replied Tim seriously. "They are all scairt of him.
He's a terror to fight. Why, at MacKenzie's raisin' last year he jist
went round foamin' like an old boar and nobody dast say a word to him.
Even Mack Murray was scairt to touch him. When he gets like that he
ain't afraid of nothin' and he's awful quick and strong."

Tim proceeded to enlarge upon this theme, which apparently fascinated
him, with tales of Perkins' prowess in rough-and-tumble fighting. But
Cameron had lost interest and was lying down again with his eyes closed.

"Well," he said, when Tim had finished his recital, "if he is that kind
of a man Mandy should have nothing to do with him."

But Tim was troubled.

"Dad likes him," he said gloomily. "He is a good hand. And ma likes him,
too. He taffies her up."

"And Mandy?" enquired Cameron.

"I don't know," said Tim, still more gloomy. "I guess he kind of makes
her. I'd--I'd jist like to take a lump out of him." Tim's eyes blazed
into a sudden fire. "He runs things on this farm altogether too much."

"Buck up then, Tim, and beat him," said Cameron, dismissing the subject.
"And now I must have some sleep. I have got an awful head on."

Tim was quick enough to understand the hint, but still he hovered about.

"Say, I'm awful sorry," he said. "Can't I git somethin'? You didn't eat
no breakfast."

"Oh, all I want is sleep, Tim. I will be all right tomorrow," replied
Cameron, touched by the tone of sympathy in Tim's