, and above all to your dear cousins, big and little, and
when I come up and hear how good you have been, we will fish in the
creek on week days and sing some of those pretty hymns on Sunday.
Do you ever go to see my poor sick friend Wilks? I think he would
like to see a little girl some times. Try him with a bonbon and
with the poetry under the pictures of flowers in your new book.
Give my love to all the kind friends, and keep a great lot for your
dear little self.

From your own EUGENE.

"Where is the book?" asked Marjorie, when the letter was read to her by
the lady whom she had written so slightingly of. Miss Carmichael looked
over her own mail matter, and found a large flat volume addressed Miss
Marjorie Carmichael, while the other packages bore simply Miss
Carmichael. She opened it up, and found the book demanded. The lawyer
had been so full of the name that he had written it mechanically,
instead of Miss Marjorie Thomas. Marjorie was not well pleased that her
cousin should have usurped her book, but loyalty to Eugene made her
suppress any expression of indignation. Mr. Terry had to read that
letter through his spectacles, and Tryphosa; and on Sunday she proposed
to invade the sanctity of Mr. Wilks' chamber and interest him in both
letter and book.

The Sunday came and went, and then the slow week dragged along. Whoever
would have thought that, a short time ago, they had been so cheerful, so
merry, even with danger threatening and death at their door. The dominie
was out of his room at last, walking about with his arm in a sling,
rejoicing in changes of raiment which Coristine had sent from his
boarding house by express and the mail waggon. The city clothes suited
him better than his pedestrian suit, and made him the fashionable man of
the neighbourhood. In conversation over his friend, he remarked that he
was pleased to find Corry toning down, writing quiet sensible letters,
without a single odious pun. "Puir laddie!" said the Squire, "if it wad
mak him blither, I could stan' a haill foolscap sheet o' them. I'm feard
the city's no' agreein' wi' him." Before noon on Friday there came a
hard rider to the Bridesdale gate, a special telegraph messenger from
Collingwood, with a telegram for Mrs. Carruthers. She took it hastily
from Timotheus, and, breaking the seal, read to the group gathered about
her: "If agreeable, Douglas and I will be