ravilla. "He is a dear
little fellow, and I hope will grow up in a way to do honour to the
name."

"I hope he may, and to be a great comfort and blessing to the parents
who have done me the honour to call their firstborn for me," returned
the old gentleman, a gleam of pleasure lighting up his face. "I want to
see the bit bairn myself when the mother is well enough to enjoy a call
from her auld kinsman. And how soon do you think that may be, doctor?"
he asked, turning to Harold.

"In a few days, sir, should she continue to gain strength as she seems
to be doing now. I have no doubt she will be very glad to see both you
and Cousin Annis."

"Yes; I must go along, for I want to see both the boy and his mother.
Marian will make a sweet mother, I think; and Arthur an excellent
father," said Annis.

"I quite agree with you in that idea," Elsie said, "and their joy in the
possession of the little fellow is a pleasant thing to see. By the way,
where are Cousin Ella and her little ones?"

"Hugh has taken them out driving," replied Mr. Lilburn. "There is
nothing the bit bairnies like better than that."

"I am sorry to miss seeing them, but it is time we were on our homeward
route," Elsie said, consulting her watch.

They were kindly urged to remain longer, but declined, bade adieu, and
were presently driving on toward Ion.

CHAPTER VIII.

At Ion Rosie was pacing the veranda as her mother and Harold drove up.
She hailed them eagerly as they alighted.

"At last! I began to think you must have yielded to a most urgent
invitation to stay to dinner at Roselands, Beechwood, or Woodburn."

"No," said her mother; "invitations were not lacking, but were steadily
declined for the sake of my daughter Rosie, who I knew would be sadly
disappointed if her mother failed to keep her promise not to remain long
away from her to-day. So here we are; and I see you have news to
impart," she added with a smiling glance at a letter in Rosie's hand.

"Yes, mamma," returned the young girl, smiling and blushing as she
spoke. "It is from Will, and incloses a little note from his
mother--such a nice, kind, affectionate one--saying she is glad she is
to have a daughter at last, and she wants to make my acquaintance as
soon as possible."

They had seated themselves, and Harold, having given his horse into the
care of a stable boy, now followed them, asking in a gay, bantering
tone:

"Am I intruding upon a private conference, Rosie? I