and talked of everything but the war--"He would hear us in
his sleep," said Max, "and he has borne all he is able to bear today."
Then Sunna said:

"Right glad am I to put a stop to such a trouble-raising subject. War
is a thing by itself, and all that touches it makes people bereft of
their senses or some other good thing. Here has come news of Thora
Ragnor's hurried marriage, but no one knows or cares about the
strange things happening at our doorstep. Such haste is not good I
fear."

"Does Ragnor approve of it?" asked Mrs. Beaton.

"Thora's marriage is all right. They fell in love with each other the
moment they met. No other marriage is possible for either. It is this,
or none at all," answered Sunna.

"I heard the man was the son of a great Edinburgh preacher."

"Yes, the Rev. Dr. Macrae, of St. Mark's."

"That is what I heard. He is a good man, but a very hard one."

"If he is hard, he is not good."

"Thou must not say that, little Miss; it may be the Episcopalian
belief, but we Calvinists have a stronger faith--a faith fit for men
and soldiers of the Lord."

"There! Mrs. Beaton, you are naming soldiers. That is against our
agreement to drop war talk. About Macrae I know nothing. He is not
aware that anyone but Thora Ragnor lives; and I was not in the least
attracted by him--his black hair and black eyes repelled me--I dislike
such men."

"Will they live in Edinburgh?"

"I believe they will live in Kirkwall. Mrs. Ragnor owns a pretty
house, which she will give them. She is going to put it in order and
furnish it from the roof to the foundation. Thora is busy about her
napery--the finest of Irish linen and damask. Now then, I must hurry
home. My grandfather will be waiting his tea."

Max rose with her. He looked at his little brother and said: "Aunt, he
will sleep now for a few hours, will you watch him till I return?"

"Will I not? You know he is as safe with me as yourself, Max."

So with an acknowledging smile of content, he took Sunna's hand and
led her slowly down the stairway. There was a box running all across
the sill of the long window, lighting the stairs, and it was full and
running over with the delicious muck plant. Sunna laid her face upon
its leaves for a moment, and the whole place was thrilled with its
heavenly perfume. Then she smiled at Max and his heart trembled with
joy; yet he said a little abruptly--"Let us make haste. The night
grows cloudy."

Their way took them through