The Man from Glengarry: A Tale of the Ottawa

by Ralph Connor

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A GOOD TRUE FRIEND

  It was springtime and the parks and avenues were in all the daintysplendor of their new leaves. The afternoon May sun was flooding thecity with gold and silver light, and all the air was tremulous with thesinging of birds. A good day it was to live if one could only live inthe sunny air within sight of the green leaves and within sound of thesinging birds. A day for life and love it was; at least so Kate thoughtas she drew up her prancing team at the St. Clair house where Harrystood waiting for her.

  "DEAR Kate," he cried, "how stunning you are! I love you!"

  "Come, Harry, jump up! Breton is getting excited."

  "Stony-hearted wretch," grumbled Harry. "Did you hear me tell you I loveyou?"

  "Nonsense, Harry, jump in; I'll report to Lily Langford."

  "Don't tell," pleaded Harry, "and do keep Breton on all fours. Thisisn't a circus. You terrify me."

  "We have only time to make the train, hurry up!" cried Kate. "Steady, myboys."

  "Some day, Kate, those 'boys' of yours will be your death or the deathof some of your friends," said Harry, as he sprang in and took his placebeside Kate. "That Breton ought to be shot. It really affects my heartto drive with you."

  "You haven't any, Harry, you know that right well, so don't be alarmed."

  "Quite true," said Harry, sentimentally, "not since that night, don'tyou remember, Kate, when you--"

  "Now, Harry, I only remind you that I always tell my girl friendseverything you say. It is this wedding that's got into your blood."

  "I suppose so," murmured Harry, pensively; "wish it would get intoyours. Now seriously, Kate, at your years you ought--"

  "Harry," said Kate, indignantly, "I really don't need you at thestation. I can meet your aunt quite well without you. Shall I set youdown here, or drive you to the office?"

  "Oh, not to the office, I entreat! I entreat! Anything but that! SurelyI may be allowed this day! I shall be careful of your sensitive points,but I do hope this wedding of Maimie's will give you serious thoughts."

  Kate was silent, giving her attention doubtless to her team. Then, withseeming irrelevance, she said: "Didn't I see Colonel Thorp yesterday intown?"

  "Yes, the old heathen! I haven't forgiven him for taking off Ranald ashe did."

  "He didn't take off Ranald. Ranald was going off anyway."

  "How do you know?" said Harry.

  "I know," replied Kate, with a little color in her cheek. "He told mehimself."

  "Well, old Thorp was mighty glad to get him; I can tell you that. Theold sinner!"

  "He's just a dear!" cried Kate. "Yes, he was glad to get Ranald. What asplendid position he gave him."

  "Oh, yes, I know, he adores you like all the rest, and so you think hima dear."

  But this Kate ignored for the team were speeding along at an alarmingpace. With amazing skill and dash she threaded her way through thecrowded streets with almost no checking of her speed.

  "Do be careful," cried Harry, as the wheels of their carriage skimmedthe noses of the car-horses. "I am quite sure my aunt will not be ableto recognize me."

  "And why not?"

  "Because I shall be gray-haired by the time I reach the station."

  "There's the train I do believe," cried Kate, flourishing her whip overher horses' backs. "We must not be late."

  "If we ever get there alive," said Harry.

  "Here we are sure enough."

  "Shall I go to the train?"

  "No, indeed," cried Kate. "Do you think I am going to allow any one tomeet MY Aunt Murray but myself? I shall go; you hold the horses."

  "I am afraid, really," cried Harry, pretending terror.

  "Oh, I fancy you will do," cried Kate, smiling sweetly, as she ran offto meet the incoming train. In a few moments she returned with Mrs.Murray and carrying a large, black valise.

  "Hello, auntie dear," cried Harry. "You see I can't leave these brutesof Kate's, but believe me it does me good to see you. What a blessing awedding is to bring you to us. I suppose you won't come again until itis Kate's or mine."

  "That would be sure to bring me," cried Mrs. Murray, smiling her brightsmile, "provided you married the right persons."

  "Why, auntie," said Harry, dismally, "Kate is so unreasonable. She won'ttake even me. You see she's so tremendously impressed with herself, andall the fellows spoil her."

  By this time Kate had the reins and Harry had climbed into the backseat.

  "Dear old auntie," he said, kissing his aunt, "I am really delightedto see you. But to return to Kate. Look at her! Doesn't she look like aRoman princess?"

  "Now, Harry, do be sensible, or I shall certainly drive you at once tothe office," said Kate, severely.

  "Oh, the heartlessness of her. She knows well enough that Colonel Thorpis there, and she would shamelessly exult over his abject devotion. Sherespects neither innocent youth nor gray hairs, as witness myself andColonel Thorp."

  "Isn't he a silly boy, auntie?" said Kate, "and he is not much improvingwith age."

  "But what's this about Colonel Thorp?" said Mrs. Murray. "SometimesRanald writes of him, in high terms, too."

  "Well, you ought to hear Thorp abuse Ranald. Says he's ruining thecompany with his various philanthropic schemes," said Harry, "but youcan never tell what he means exactly. He's a wily old customer."

  "Don't believe him, auntie," said Kate, with a sagacious smile. "ColonelThorp thinks that the whole future of his company and of the Provincedepends solely upon Ranald. It is quite ridiculous to hear him, whileall the time he is abusing him for his freaks."

  "It must be a great country out there, though," said Harry, "and what arow they are making over Confederation."

  "What do you mean, Harry?" said Mrs. Murray. "We hear so little in thecountry."

  "Well, I don't know exactly, but those fellows in British Columbia aremaking all sorts of threats that unless this railway is built forthwiththey will back out of the Dominion, and some of them talk of annexationwith the United States. Don't I wish I was there! What a lucky fellowRanald is. Thorp says he's a big gun already. No end of a swell. Ofcourse, as manager of a big concern like the British-American Coal andLumber Company, he is a man of some importance."

  "I don't think he is taking much to do with public questions," saidKate, "though he did make a speech at New Westminster not long ago. Hehas been up in those terrible woods almost ever since he went."

  "Hello, how do you know?" said Harry, looking at her suspiciously; "Iget a fragment of a note from Ranald now and then, but he is altogethertoo busy to remember humble people."

  "I hear regularly from Coley. You remember Coley, don't you?" said Kate,turning to Mrs. Murray.

  "Oh, yes, that's the lad in whom Ranald was so interested in theInstitute."

  "Yes," replied Kate; "Coley begged and prayed to go with Ranald, and sohe went."

  "She omits to state," said Harry, "that she also 'begged and prayed' andfurther that she outfitted the young rascal, though I've reason to thankProvidence for removing him to another sphere."

  "How does it affect you?" said Mrs. Murray.

  "Why, haven't you heard, Aunt Murray, of the tremendous heights to whichI have attained? I suppose she didn't tell you of her dinner party. Thatwas after you had left last fall. It was a great bit of generalship.Some of Ranald's foot-ball friends, Little Merrill, Starry Hamilton,that's the captain, you know, and myself among them, were asked toa farewell supper by this young lady, and when the men had welldrunk--fed, I mean--and were properly dissolved in tears over theprospect of Ranald's departure, at a critical moment the Institutewas introduced as a side issue. It was dear to Ranald's heart. A mosteffective picture was drawn of the Institute deserted and falling intoruins, so to speak, with Kate heroically struggling to prevent uttercollapse. Could this be allowed? No! a thousand times no! Some one wouldbe found surely! Who would it be! At this juncture Kate, who had beenmaintaining a powerful silence, smiled upon Little Merrill, who beingdistinctly inflammable
, and for some mysterious reason devoted toRanald, and for an even more mysterious reason devoted to Kate, sworehe'd follow if some one would lead. What could I do? My well-knownabilities naturally singled me out for leadership, so to prevent anysuch calamity, I immediately proposed that if Starry Hamilton, the greatfoot-ball chief, would command this enterprise I would follow. Beforethe evening was over the Institute was thoroughly manned."

  "It is nearly half true, aunt," said Kate.

  "And by our united efforts," continued Harry, "the Institute hassurvived the loss of Ranald."

  "I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am, Harry, that both of my boys aretaking hold of such good work, you here and Ranald in British Columbia.He must have a very hard time of it, but he speaks very gratefully ofColonel Thorp, who, he says, often opposes but finally agrees with hisproposals."

  Harry laughed aloud. "Agrees, does he? And do you know why? I rememberseeing him one day, and he was in a state of wild fury at Ranald'snotions. I won't quote his exact words. The next day I found him in astate of bland approval. Then I learn incidentally that in the meantimeKate has been giving him tea and music."

  "Don't listen to his mean insinuations, auntie," said Kate, blushing alittle.

  Mrs. Murray turned and looked curiously into her face and smiled, andthen Kate blushed all the more.

  "I think that may explain some things that have been mysterious to me,"she said.

  "Oh, what, auntie?" cried Harry; "I am most anxious to know."

  "Never mind," said Mrs. Murray; "I will explain to Kate."

  "That won't help me any. She is a most secretive person, twiddles us allround her fingers and never lets us know anything until it's done. It ismost exasperating. Oh, I say, Kate," added Harry, suddenly, "would youmind dropping me at the florist's here?"

  "Why? Oh, I see," said Kate, drawing in her team. "How do you do, Lily?Harry is anxious to select some flowers," she said, bowing to a verypretty girl on the sidewalk.

  "Kate, do stop it," besought Harry, in a low voice, as he leaped out ofthe carriage. "Good by, auntie, I'll see you this evening. Don't believeall Kate tells you," he added, as they drove away.

  "Are you too tired for a turn in the park," said Kate, "or shall wedrive home?"

  A drive is always pleasant. Besides, one can talk about some things withmore freedom in a carriage than face to face in one's room. The horsesrequire attention at critical moments, and there are always points ofinterest when it is important that conversation should be deflected fromthe subject in hand, so since Mrs. Murray was willing, Kate turned intothe park. For an hour they drove along its shady, winding roads whileMrs. Murray talked of many things, but mostly of Ranald, and of thetales that the Glengarry people had of him. For wherever there waslumbering to be done, sooner or later there Glengarry men were to befound, and Ranald had found them in the British Columbia forests. Andto their people at home their letters spoke of Ranald and his doingsat first doubtfully, soon more confidently, but always with pride. ToMacdonald Bhain a rare letter came from Ranald now and then, which hewould carry to Mrs. Murray with a difficult pretense of modesty. Forwith Macdonald Bhain, Ranald was a great man.

  "But he is not quite sure of him," said Mrs. Murray. "He thinks it is avery queer way of lumbering, and the wages he considers excessive."

  "Does he say that?" asked Kate. "That's just what Colonel Thorp says hiscompany are saying. But he stands up for Ranald even when he can't seethat his way is the best. The colonel is not very sure about Ranald'sschemes for the men, his reading-room, library, and that sort of thing.But I'm sure he will succeed." But Kate's tone belied her confidentwords.

  Mrs. Murray noticed the anxiety in Kate's voice. "At least we aresure," she said, gently, "that he will do right, and after all that issuccess."

  "I know that right well," replied Kate; "but it is hard for him outthere with no one to help him or to encourage him."

  Again Mrs. Murray looked at Kate, curiously.

  "It must be a terrible place," Kate went on, "especially for one likeRanald, for he has no mind to let things go. He will do a thing as itought to be done, or not at all." Soon after this Kate gave her mind toher horses, and in a short time headed them for home.

  "What a delightful drive we have had," said Mrs. Murray, gratefully, asKate took her upstairs to her room.

  "I hope I have not worried you with my dismal forebodings," she said,with a little laugh.

  "No, dear," said Mrs. Murray, drawing her face down to the pillow whereKate had made her lay her head. "I think I understand," she added, in awhisper.

  Then Kate laid her face beside that of her friend and whispered, "Oh,auntie, it is so hard for him"; but Mrs. Murray stroked her head softlyand said: "There is no fear, Kate; all will be well with him."

  Immediately after dinner Kate carried Mrs. Murray with her to her ownroom, and after establishing her in all possible comfort, she began toread extracts from Coley's letters.

  "Here is the first, auntie; they are more picturesque than elegant, butif you knew Coley, you wouldn't mind; you'd be glad to get any letterfrom him." So saying Kate turned her back to the window, a position withthe double advantage of allowing the light to fall upon the paper andthe shadow to rest upon her face, and so proceeded to read:

  DEAR MISS KATE: We got here--("That is to New Westminster.") last night,and it is a queer town. The streets run every way, the houses are allbuilt of wood, and almost none of them are painted. The streets are fullof all sorts of people. I saw lots of Chinamen and Indians. It makesa feller feel kind o' queer as if he was in some foreign country.The hotel where we stopped was a pretty good lookin' place. Of coursenothin' like the hotel we stopped at in San Francisco. It was prettyfine inside, but after supper when the crowd began to come in to thebar you never saw such a gang in your life! They knew how to sling theirmoney, I can tell you. And then they begun to yell and cut up. I tellyou it would make the Ward seem like a Sunday school. The Boss, that'swhat they call him here, I guess didn't like it much, and I don't thinkyou would, either. Next morning we went to look at the mills. They arejust sheds with slab roofs. I don't think much of them myself, though Idon't know much about mills. The Boss went round askin' questions andI don't think he liked the look of them much either. I know he kepthis lips shut pretty tight as we used to see him do sometimes in theInstitute. I am awful glad he brought me along. He says I have got towrite to you at least once a month, and I've got to take care of mywritin' too and get the spellin' right. When I think of the fellers backin the alleys pitchin' pennies I tell you I'd ruther die than go back.Here a feller feels he's alive. I wish I'd paid more attention to mywritin' in the night school, but I guess I was pretty much of a foolthem days, and you were awful good to me. The Boss says that a man mustalways pay his way, and when I told him I wanted to pay for them clothesyou gave me he looked kind o' funny, but he said "that's right," so Iwant you to tell me what they cost and I will pay you first thing, forI'm goin' to be a man out in this country. We're goin' up the rivernext week and see the gangs workin' up there in the bush. It's kind o'lonesome here goin' along the street and lookin' people in the faces tosee if you can see one you know. Lots of times I though I did see someone I knew but it wasn't. Good by, I'll write you soon again.

  Yours truly,

  MICHAEL COLE.

  "The second letter," Kate went on, "is written from the camp, TwentymileCamp, he calls it. He tells how they went up the river in the steamer,taking with them some new hands for their camp, and how these men cameon board half drunk, and how all the way up to Yale they were drinkingand fighting. It must have been horrible. After that they went onsmaller boats and then by wagons. On the roads it must have beenterrible. Coley seems much impressed with the big trees. He says:"

  "These big trees are pretty hard to write about without sayin' words theBoss don't allow. It makes you think of bein' in St. Michaels, it's soquiet and solemn-like, and I never felt so small in all my life. TheBoss and me walked the last part of the way, and got to camp late
andpretty tired, and the men we brought in with us was all pretty mad, butthe Boss never paid no attention to 'em but went whistlin' about as ifeverything was lovely. We had some pork and beans for supper, then wentto sleep in a bunk nailed up against the side of the shanty. It was ashard as a board, but I tell you it felt pretty good. Next day I wentwanderin' 'round with the foreman and the Boss. I tell you I was afraidto get very far away from 'em, for I'd be sure to get lost; the bush isthat thick that you can't see your own length ahead of you. That night,when the Boss and me and the foreman was in the shanty they call theoffice, after supper, we heard a most awful row. 'What's that?' saysthe Boss. 'O, that's nothin',' says the foreman; 'the boys is havin' alittle fun, I guess.' He didn't say anything, but went on talkin', butin a little while the row got worse, and we heard poundin' and smashin'.'Do you allow that sort of thing?' says the Boss. 'Well,' he says,'Guess the boys got some whiskey last night. I generally let 'em alone.''Well,' says the Boss, quiet-like, 'I think you'd better go in andstop it.' 'Not if I know myself,' says the foreman, 'I ain't ordered myfuneral yet.' 'Well, we'll go in and see, anyway,' says the Boss. I tellyou I was kind o' scared, but I thought I might as well go along. Whenwe got into the sleepin' shanty there was a couple of fellers withhand-spikes breakin' up the benches and knockin' things around mostterrible. 'Say, boys,' yelled the foreman, and then he began to swearmost awful. They didn't seem to pay much attention, but kept on knockin'around and swearin'. 'Come, now,' says the foreman, kind o' coaxin'like, 'this ain't no way to act. Get down and behave yourselves.' Butstill they didn't pay no attention. Then the Boss walked up to thebiggest one, and when he got quite close to 'em they all got stilllookin' on. 'I'll take that hand-spike,' says the Boss. 'Help yourself,'says the man swingin' it up. I don't know what happened, it was doneso quick, but before you could count three that feller was on his kneesbleedin' like a pig and the hand-spike was out of the door, and the Bosswalks up to the other feller and says, 'Put that hand-spike outside.' Hebegun to swear. 'Put it out,' says the Boss, quiet-like, and the fellerbacks up and throws his hand-spike out. And the Boss up and speaks andsays, 'Look here, men, I don't want to interfere with nobody, and won'twhile he behaves himself, but there ain't goin' to be any row like thatin this camp. Say, you ought to have seen 'em! They sat like the gangused to in the night school, and then he turned and walked out and weall follered him. I guess they ain't used to that sort of thing in thiscamp. I heard the men talkin' next day pretty big of what they was goin'to do, but I don't think they'll do much. They don't look that kind.Anyway, if there's goin' to be a fight, I'd feel safer with the Bossthan with the whole lot of 'em."

  "The letter after this," went on Kate, "tells of what happened theSunday following."

  "We'd gone out in the afternoon, Boss and me, for a walk, and when wegot back the camp was just howlin' drunk, and the foreman was worst ofall. They kind o' quieted down for a little when we come in and let usget into the office, but pretty soon they began actin' up funny againand swearin' most awful. Then I see the Boss shut up his lips hard, andI says to myself 'Look out for blood.' Then he starts over for the bunkshanty. I was mighty scared, and follered him close. Just as we shovedopen the door a bottle come singin' through the air and smashed to athousand bits on the beam above. 'Is that the kind of cowards youare?' says the Boss, quite cool. He didn't speak loud, but I tell youeverybody heard him and got dead still. 'No, Boss,' says one feller,'not all.' 'The man that threw that bottle,' says the boss, 'is acoward, and the meanest kind. He's afraid to step out here for fiveminutes.' Nobody moved. 'Step up, ye baste,' says an Irishman, 'or it'smesilf will kick ye out of the camp.' And out the feller comes. It wasthe same duck that the Boss scared out of the door the first night.'Sthand up till 'im Billie,' says the Irishman; 'we'll see fair play.Sthand up to the gintleman.' 'Billie,' says the Boss, and his eyes wasblazin' like candles; 'yer goin' to leave this camp to-morrow mornin'.You can take your choice; will you get onto your knees now or later?'With that Billie whipped out a knife and rushes at him; but the Bossgrabs his wrist and gives it a twist, and the knife fell onto the floor.The Boss holds him like a baby, and picks up the knife and throws itinto the fire. 'Now,' says he, 'get onto your knees. Quick!' And thefeller drops on his knees, and bellered like a calf.

  "'Let's pray,' says some one, and the crowd howls. 'Give us yer hand,Boss,' says the Irishman. 'Yer the top o' this gang.' The Irishmanshoves out his clipper, and the Boss takes it in an easy kind of a way.My you o't to seen that Irishman squirm. 'Howly Mither!' he yells, anddances round, 'what do ye think yer got?' and he goes off lookin' at hisfingers, and the Boss stands lookin' at 'em, and says, 'You'r a nicelot of fellers, you don't deserve it; but I'm goin' to treat you fair.I know you feel Sunday pretty slow, and I'll try to make it better foryou; but I want you to know that I won't have any more row in thiscamp, and I won't have any man here that can't behave himself. To-morrowmorning, YOU,' pointin' at the foreman, 'and you, Billie,' and YOU,pointin' at another chap, leave the camp, and they did too, though theybegged and prayed to let 'em stay, and by next Sunday we had a lotof papers and books, with pictures in 'em, and a bang-up dinner, andeverything went nice. I am likin' it fine. I'm time-keeper, and lookafter the store; but I drive the team too every chance I get, and I'druther do that a long way. But many a night I tell you when the Boss andme is alone we talk about you and the Institute fellers, and the Boss--"

  "Well, that's all," said Kate, "but isn't it terrible? Aren't theydreadful?"

  "Poor fellows," said Mrs. Murray; "it's a very hard life for them."

  "But isn't it awful, auntie? They might kill him," said Kate.

  "Yes, dear," said Mrs. Murray, in a soothing voice, "but it sounds worseto us perhaps than it is."

  Mrs. Murray had not lived in the Indian Lands for nothing.

  "Oh, if anything should happen to him?" said Kate, with suddenagitation.

  "We must just trust him to the great Keeper," said Mrs. Murray, quietly,"in Whose keeping all are safe whether there or here."

  Then going to her valise, she took out a letter and handed it to Kate,saying: "That's his last to me. You can look at it, Kate."

  Kate took the letter and put it in her desk. "I think, perhaps, we hadbetter go down now," she said; "I expect Colonel Thorp has come. I thinkyou will like him. He seems a little rough, but he is a gentleman, andhas a true heart," and they went downstairs.

  It is the mark of a gentleman to know his kind. He has an instinctfor what is fine and offers ready homage to what is worthy. Any oneobserving Colonel Thorp's manner of receiving Mrs. Murray would haveknown him at once for a gentleman, for when that little lady came intothe drawing-room, dressed in her decent silk gown, with soft white laceat her throat, bearing herself with sweet dignity, and stepping withdainty grace on her toes, after the manner of the fine ladies of theold school, and not after the flat-footed, heel-first modern style, thecolonel abandoned his usual careless manner and rose and stood rigidlyat attention.

  "Auntie, this is my friend, Colonel Thorp," said Kate.

  "Proud to know you madam," said the colonel, with his finest militarybow.

  "And I am glad to meet Colonel Thorp; I have heard so much of himthrough my friends," and she smiled at him with such genuine kindlinessthat the gallant colonel lost his heart at once.

  "Your friends have been doing me proud," he said, bowing to her and thento Kate.

  "Oh, you needn't look at me," said Kate; "you don't imagine I have beensaying nice things about you? She has other friends that think much ofyou."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Murray, "Ranald has often spoken of you, Colonel Thorp,and of your kindness," said Mrs. Murray.

  The colonel looked doubtful. "Well, I don't know that he thinks much ofme. I have had to be pretty hard on him."

  "Why?" asked Mrs. Murray.

  "Well, I reckon you know him pretty well," began the colonel.

  "Well, she ought to," said Kate, "she brought him up, and his manyvirtues he owes mostly to my dear aunt's training."
>
  "Oh, Kate, you must not say that," said Mrs. Murray, gravely.

  "Then," said the colonel, "you ought to be proud of him. You produced arare article in the commercial world, and that is a man of honor. He isnot for sale, and I want to say that I feel as safe about the company'smoney out there as if I was settin' on it; but he needs watching," addedthe colonel, "he needs watching."

  "What do you mean?" said Mrs. Murray, whose pale face had flushed withpleasure and pride at the colonel's praise of Ranald.

  "Too much philanthropy," said the colonel, bluntly; "theBritish-American Coal and Lumber Company ain't a benevolent societyexactly."

  "I am glad you spoke of that, Colonel Thorp; I want to ask you aboutsome things that I don't understand. I know that the company arecriticising some of Ranald's methods, but don't know why exactly."

  "Now, Colonel," cried Kate, "stand to your guns."

  "Well," said the colonel, "I am going to execute a masterly retreat,as they used to say when a fellow ran away. I am going to get behind mycompany. They claim, you see, that Ranald ain't a paying concern."

  "But how?" said Mrs. Murray.

  Then the colonel enumerated the features of Ranald's management mostseverely criticised by the company. He paid the biggest wages going; thecost of supplies for the camps was greater, and the company's storesdid not show as large profits as formerly; "and of course," said thecolonel, "the first aim of any company is to pay dividends, and themanager that can't do that has to go."

  Then Mrs. Murray proceeded to deal with the company's contentions,going at once with swift intuition to the heart of the matter. "Youwere speaking of honor a moment ago, Colonel. There is such a thing inbusiness?"

  "Certainly, that's why I put that young man where he is."

  "That means that the company expect him to deal fairly by them."

  "That's about it."

  "And being a man of honor, I suppose he will also deal fairly by the menand by himself."

  "I guess so," said the colonel.

  "I don't pretend to understand the questions fully, but from Ranald'sletters I have gathered that he did not consider that justice was beingdone either to the men or to the company. For instance, in the matterof stores--I may be wrong in this, you will correct me, Colonel--Iunderstand it was the custom to charge the men in the camps for thearticles they needed prices three or four times what was fair."

  "Well," said the colonel, "I guess things WERE a little high, but that'sthe way every company does."

  "And then I understand that the men were so poorly housed and fed and sopoorly paid that only those of the inferior class could be secured."

  "Well, I guess they weren't very high-class," said the colonel, "that'sright enough."

  "But, Colonel, if you secure a better class of men, and you treat themin a fair and honorable way with some regard to their comfort you oughtto get better results in work, shouldn't you?"

  "Well, that's so," said the colonel; "there never was such an amountof timber got out with the same number of men since the company startedwork, but yet the thing don't pay, and that's the trouble. The concernmust pay or go under."

  "Yes, that's quite true, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray; "but why doesn'tyour concern pay?"

  "Well, you see, there's no market; trade is dull and we can't sell toadvantage."

  "But surely that is not your manager's fault," said Mrs. Murray, "andsurely it would be an unjust thing to hold him responsible for that."

  "But the company don't look at things in that light," said the colonel."You see they figure it this way, stores ain't bringing in the returnsthey used to, the camps cost a little more, wages are a little higher,there ain't nothing coming in, and they say, Well, that chap out theremeans well with his reading-rooms for the mill hands, his library in thecamp, and that sort of thing, but he ain't sharp enough!"

  "Sharp enough! that's a hard word, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray,earnestly, "and it may be a cruel word, but if Ranald were ever so sharphe really couldn't remove the real cause of the trouble. You say he hasproduced larger results than ever before, and if the market were normalthere would be larger returns. Then, it seems to me, Colonel, that ifRanald suffers he is suffering, not because he has been unfaithful orincompetent, but because the market is bad, and that I am certain youwould not consider fair."

  "You must not be too hard on us," said the colonel. "So far as Iam concerned, I think you are right, but it is a hard thing to makebusiness men look at these things in anything but a business way."

  "But it should not be hard, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray, with sadearnestness, "to make even business men see that when honor is the priceof dividends the cost is too great," and without giving the colonel anopportunity of replying, she went on with eager enthusiasm to show howthe laws of the kingdom of heaven might be applied to the great problemsof labor. "And it would pay, Colonel," she cried, "it would pay inmoney, but far more it would pay in what cannot be bought for money--inthe lives and souls of men, for unjust and uncharitable dealing injuresmore the man who is guilty of it than the man who suffers from it in thefirst instance."

  "Madam," answered the colonel, gravely, "I feel you are right, and Ishould be glad to have you address the meeting of our share-holders,called for next month, to discuss the question of our western business."

  "Do you mean Ranald's position?" asked Kate.

  "Well, I rather think that will come up."

  "Then," said Mrs. Murray, unconsciously claiming the colonel'sallegiance, "I feel sure there will be one advocate at least for fairand honorable dealing at that meeting." And the colonel was far toogallant to refuse to acknowledge the claim, but simply said: "You maytrust me, madam; I shall do my best."

  "I only wish papa were here," said Kate. "He is a share-holder, isn'the? And wish he could hear you, auntie, but he and mamma won't be homefor two weeks."

  "Oh, Kate," cried Mrs. Murray, "you make me ashamed, and I fear I havebeen talking too much."

  At this point Harry came in. "I just came over to send you to bed," hesaid, kissing his aunt, and greeting the others. "You are all to lookyour most beautiful to-morrow."

  "Well," said the colonel, slowly, "that won't be hard for the rest ofyou, and it don't matter much for me, and I hope we ain't going to loseour music."

  "No, indeed!" cried Kate, sitting down at the piano, while the colonelleaned back in his easy chair and gave himself up to an hour's unmingleddelight.

  "You have given more pleasure than you know to a wayfaring man," hesaid, as he bade her good night.

  "Come again, when you are in town, you are always welcome, ColonelThorp," she said.

  "You may count me here every time," said the colonel. Then turning toMrs. Murray, with a low bow, he said, "you have given me some ideasmadam, that I hope may not be quite unfruitful, and as for that youngman of yours, well--I--guess--you ain't--hurt his cause any. We'll putup a fight, anyway."

  "I am glad to have met you, Colonel Thorp," said Mrs. Murray, "and I amquite sure you will stand up for what is right," and with another bowthe colonel took his leave.

  "Now, Harry, you must go, too," said Kate; "you can see your aunt againafter to-morrow, and I must get my beauty sleep, besides I don't wantto stand up with a man gaunt and hollow-eyed for lack of sleep," and shebundled him off in spite of his remonstrances. But eager as Kate was forher beauty sleep, the light burned late in her room; and long aftershe had seen Mrs. Murray snugly tucked in for the night, she sat withRanald's open letter in her hand, reading it till she almost knew it byheart. It told, among other things, of his differences with thecompany in regard to stores, wages, and supplies, and of his efforts toestablish a reading-room at the mills, and a library at the camps; butthere was a sentence at the close of the letter that Kate read over andover again with the light of a great love in her eyes and with a cry ofpain in her heart. "The magazines and papers that Kate sends are a greatboon. Dear Kate, what a girl she is! I know none like her; and whata friend she has been to me ever since the day she s
tood up for me atQuebec. You remember I told you about that. What a guy I must have been,but she never showed a sign of shame. I often think of that now, howdifferent she was from another! I see it now as I could not then--a manis a fool once in his life, but I have got my lesson and still have agood true friend." Often she read and long she pondered the last words.It was so easy to read too much into them. "A good, true friend." Shelooked at the words till the tears came. Then she stood up and looked atherself in the glass.

  "Now, young woman," she said, severely, "be sensible and don't dreamdreams until you are asleep, and to sleep you must go forthwith." Butsleep was slow to come, and strange to say, it was the thought of thelittle woman in the next room that quieted her heart and sent her tosleep, and next day she was looking her best. And when the ceremony wasover, and the guests were assembled at the wedding breakfast, there werenot a few who agreed with Harry when, in his speech, he threw down hisgage as champion for the peerless bridesmaid, whom for the hour--alas,too short--he was privileged to call his "lady fair." For while Katehad not the beauty of form and face and the fascination of manner thatturned men's heads and made Maimie the envy of all her set, there wasin her a wholesomeness, a fearless sincerity, a noble dignity, and thatindescribable charm of a true heart that made men trust her and love heras only good women are loved. At last the brilliant affair was all over,the rice and old boots were thrown, the farewell words spoken, and tearsshed, and then the aunts came back to the empty and disordered house.

  "Well, I am glad for Maimie," said Aunt Frank; "it is a good match."

  "Dear Maimie," replied Aunt Murray, with a gentle sigh, "I hope she willbe happy."

  "After all it is much better," said Aunt Frank.

  "Yes, it is much better," replied Mrs. Murray; and then she added, "Howlovely Kate looked! What a noble girl she is," but she did not explaineven to herself, much less to Aunt Frank, the nexus of her thoughts.