whether Jonathan was good-natured, but Lord Medway is. He danced with me as often as I would let him, and he danced with nobody else! think of that, grandmother! the women were all madly jealous of me. I did not care for that much."

"Janet, dear," said the Elder to his wife, "if you had ever seen this Lord Medway trailing up William Street or Maiden Lane, you wouldna believe the lassie. He is just the maist inert piece o' humanity you could imagine. Dancing! Tuts! Tuts! lassie!"

"He can dance, grandfather. Mrs. Gordon said the way he led me through a minuet was adorable; and Major André told me that in a skirmish or a cavalry charge, no one could match him. He was the hardest rider and fiercest fighter in the army."

"Weel, weel!" said Madame, "a man that isna roused by anything short o' a battle or a cavalry charge, might be easy to live with--if you have any notion for English lords."

"Indeed, I have not any notion for Lord Medway. He is the most provoking of men. He takes no interest in games, he won't stake money on cards, he listened to the music with his eyes shut; and when Miss Robertson and Major André acted a little piece the Major had written, he pretended to be asleep. He was not asleep, for I caught him awake, and he smiled at me, as much as to say that I knew all about his deception, and sanctioned it. I told him so afterward, and he laughed so heartily that every one looked amazed, and what do you think he said? 'It is a fact, ladies; I really laughed, but it is Miss Semple's fault.' I don't think, grandmother, I would have been invited to Hempstead if he had not let it be known that he was not going unless Miss Semple went."

"Is he in love with you?"

"He thinks he is."

"Are you in love with him?"

Maria smiled, and with her teacup half-way to her mouth hummed a line from an old Scotch song: "I'm glad that my heart's my ain."

Such conversation, touching many people and many topics, was naturally prolonged, and when Neil came home it was carried on with renewed interest and vigor. And Maria was not deceived when Neil with some transparent excuse of 'going to see a friend' went out at twilight.

"He is going to see Agnes," she thought; "my coming home is too good an excuse to lose, but why did he not tell me? Lovers are so sly, and yet all their cunning is useless. People always see through 

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