orking-person too," Miss Gertrude White said: "but, in any
case, I think a jacket of these skins will look lovely."

"Oh, do you think so? Well, you can't say much for the smell of them."

"It is no more disagreeable than the smell of a sealskin jacket."

She laid down the last of the skins with some air of disdain.

"It will be a nice series of trophies, anyway--showing you know some one
who goes about spending his life in killing inoffensive animals."

"Poor Sir Keith Macleod! What has he done to offend you, Carry?"

Miss Carry turned her head away for a minute; but presently she boldly
faced her sister.

"Gerty, you don't mean to marry a beauty man!"

Gerty looked considerably puzzled; but her companion continued,
vehemently,--

"How often have I heard you say you would never marry a beauty man--a
man who has been brought up in front of the looking-glass--who is far
too well satisfied with his own good looks to think of anything or
anybody else! Again and again you have said that, Gertrude White. You
told me, rather than marry a self-satisfied coxcomb, you would marry a
misshapen, ugly little man, so that he would worship you all the days of
your life for your condescension and kindness."

"Very well, then!"

"And what is Sir Keith Macleod but a beauty man?"

"He is not!" and for once the elder sister betrayed some feeling in the
proud tone of her voice. "He is the manliest-looking man that I have
ever seen; and I have seen a good many more men than you. There is not a
man you know whom he could not throw across the canal down there. Sir
Keith Macleod a beauty man!--I think he could take on a good deal more
polishing, and curling, and smoothing without any great harm. If I was
in any danger, I know which of all the men I have seen I would rather
have in front of me--with his arms free; and I don't suppose he would
be thinking of any looking-glass! If you want to know about the race he
represents, read English history, and the story of England's wars. If
you go to India, or China, or Africa, or the Crimea, you will hear
something about the Macleods, I think!"

Carry began to cry.

"You silly thing, what is the matter with you?" Gertrude White
exclaimed; but of course her arm was round her sister's neck.

"It is true, then."

"What is true?"

"What people say."

"What do people say?"

"That you will marry Sir Keith Macleod."

"Carry!" she said, angrily, "I can't imagine who has been repeating s