anything!"

"Shall I ask him to come over and dine with us?" Mary asked, rather nervously.

"Well, no: that would be useless; he would not accept—at present," Käthchen made answer. "But indeed, Mamie, I would not send him any invitation, nor would I say anything that needed an answer: I should write so that he might answer or not just as he pleased."

"Yes, yes," said Mary, with some animation. "Your advice is excellent, Käthchen. I will write at once. And about what? Oh, about kelp. I have got all the information I wanted about the burning of kelp; and I will tell him that any time he comes over to the mainland I should like to show him the report." And then as abruptly she discarded this idea. "No. Kelp is too common-place. It would be like asking for his advice about something connected with the estate; and I want him to understand that I can get on by myself. Oh, I'll tell you, Käthchen!—the photographs!—the photographs I promised to send to Mrs. Armour. You know how proud he was of the old woman's coming all the way from Canada to have but a glimpse of Young Donald; and I could see how he was pleased by the little attentions I was able to show her—quite grateful he seemed—though you know he doesn't say much."

She was all excitement now, and as happy and sanguine as hitherto she had been despondent. She went and got writing materials forthwith, and hastily, and yet with some consideration, penned this note:—