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jokes, and sang songs over it, and replenished it with hot water to such an extent that it gradually changed its nature and became that harmless beverage loved by Frenchmen, _eau sucre_. That it cheered was evident, for laughter was often loud and sometimes long. That it did not inebriate was equally clear, for the talk of the party was frequently grave as well as gay. It was especially grave when, towards the end of the evening, McLeod senior, in answer to some allusion of his guest as to the beauties of Partridge Bay, became confidential, and told how he had once dwelt in that settlement for many years, in a happy home which he had specially built for himself, or rather, as he said, with a kindly glance at his pretty daughter, which he had built specially for his wife and child. How it had pleased God to take from him his dear partner before they had been long in the new house; how the failure of a friend had involved him in ruin, and compelled him to sell off all he had possessed and begin life anew with the scanty remnants of his fortune; how he had taken the advice of another friend, and come to Jenkins Creek to set up a saw-mill, having previously invested nearly all his funds in an order for goods from England, for the purpose of setting up a general store, as it was highly probable the country would go on prospering, and the demand for such a store become great; how he had had letters from his youngest son, Roderick,--a lad of nineteen who had been educated in the "old country,"--telling him that the goods had been bought and shipped in the _Betsy_ of Plymouth, and how that he, Roderick, intended to take passage in the same ship the week following, and join his father and brothers in their new sphere of labour; how that, sometimes, he felt depressed by the sudden reverse of fortune, but was always cheered and raised up again by his daughter Flo, who had a wonderful way--somewhat like her mother--of inducing him, when things looked darkest, to turn his eyes to the source of all light, and comfort, and hope, and prosperity. You may be sure that Reginald Redding listened to all this with the deepest interest and sympathy, for as he glanced at Flora's speaking countenance--and he did glance at it pretty frequently--he observed new beauty in her expression, and bright tear-drops in her eyes. "Ah, Flo," said her father, when he had finished, "no one has such good cause to regret the loss of our old home as yo
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