"You repeat my words! May you never have a happy moment until you are as sorry for saying them as I am!" and he rose and left the car, meeting Lancy on the steps.

"Well, Hugh, we are away at last," said Lancy, gaily. "Good-bye, old fellow!"

But Hugh merely raised his eyes and hurried past, and before Elsie knew he had left the car she saw him driving furiously down the road, past cabs and trucks, escaping collision as if by a miracle, and the speed never slacked until he had covered more ground than was necessary to take him home.

"What is the matter with Hugh?" said Lancy, as he seated himself beside his sister. "I do think he might keep his temper occasionally. What has gone wrong, now?" and he looked over at Dexie for his answer.

"I fear I am the wicked person that has gone wrong and as his eloquence prevailed not in turning me from my evil ways he feels heart-sick."

"Heart-sick!" cried Elsie, in surprise; "that would not put him in a temper, surely."

"Love-sick, then," said Dexie, with a smile; "that might account for it." "Well," said Elsie, in a tone of disgust, "he must be awfully in love with your Gussie, if he can't leave her long enough to drive us to the depot without pining for her," whereupon Dexie forgot her surroundings and burst into such a rippling laugh that Lancy felt forced to join her. The infection spread to their fellow-travellers, and caused a smile to pass around, although the cause of the merriment was unknown beyond the little group from which it started.

"I fancy I can guess the cause of the trouble," said Lancy. "I daresay Hugh found the parting painful. Am I right?"

Just then the starting-signal sounded, and the train sped away across the country, and our travellers settled down to whatever comfort there is to be obtained in a railroad car.

As soon as Lancy could get a word with Dexie, he asked her again what Hugh had said to her, and she, willing to put his mind at ease, replied:

"He wanted me to promise that I would answer a letter he wished to write to me, and I gave him to understand that I wanted no correspondence with my sister's lover, so we had a few words over it and then parted—not friends, I fear!"

Lancy knew that Hugh was only waiting his opportunity to oust him from his favored position, and it delighted him to hear Dexie speak of him in that strain.

"Thank you, Dexie; I guess Hugh can hear all he needs to know of you second-hand."

Dexie smiled, and she did not pull away her hand when, for a moment, Lancy laid his own shapely one across it. Lancy was her good friend; why should he not feel sure of it? And a warm pressure of the hand goes a great way towards proving friendship, to say nothing of a stronger feeling.

We must go back to Hugh, whom we left driving furiously along the road, his heart full of bitter, angry feelings. He reproached Dexie for her cold, heartless words, and himself for his ungovernable temper. He would give worlds to recall those hasty words spoken on the roof, but it was too late; he doubted if ever Dexie would forgive them. He felt that he could not meet Mrs. Gurney's searching glance while in such a mood, so he kept on, seeing nothing and hearing nothing of what was passing around him, his only thought being to get away from human sight until the heat of the battle had somewhat passed away.

It was not until some hours later that he made his appearance at Mrs. Gurney's. She was becoming quite anxious at his long absence, as she wished to hear the latest news of Elsie. Even when Hugh did return, he lingered so long in the stable that she had to send a message to him before he made his appearance.

He felt glad to find her alone in the room; he could not hide his feelings from her, but others need not know of his weakness.

"How did she keep up, Hugh? Is she all right?"

"Elsie, you mean? Oh, yes. I think she is all right. She did not get a chance to fret after she left the house."

"But what detained you? I suppose you stayed to see them off, but the train must have gone hours ago."

"Yes, I know it, Mrs. Gurney; but I—I didn't stay to see them off—I couldn't," he added, seeing her look of surprise. "I'm a fool, I suppose, but I couldn't stand there and see her go away without giving me one kind word, so I drove off down the road until I could hide my folly from others' eyes. I have driven Bob pretty hard, I'm afraid, but I have rubbed him down well, and he will be the first to recover from this day's work."

He spoke bitterly, but openly, as any loved son might speak to a tender, sympathizing mother, and he had found her all that during the long years he had lived with them; and though her own son had gained, as he thought, the one thing he longed for, he knew she would feel for his disappointment.

"It is Dexie you mean. You do not like her to be going away with Lancy. Is that it, Hugh?"

"Yes, but that is not all. She has treated me so scornfully, while Lancy—." He broke off abruptly, with a gesture that finished the sentence for him.

"But, Hugh, think a minute! Lancy's tastes are similar to her own. How can she help showing the preference, when their very music seems to draw them together? I would not have thought, Hugh, that you would be so willing to give up Gussie as you seem to be. You are not trifling with both girls, I hope, Hugh?"

"No, indeed! You do not understand, and I cannot explain; but Gussie is not what I thought her at first, and Dexie—well, she is so much more. It does not make it easier to bear to know that I have placed a barrier between us with my own hands. Oh, my temper! my hateful temper! it has done me more harm during the last twenty-four hours than during all my life long," and he laid his arms across the table and bent his head upon them.

"Perhaps it is not so, after all; the last burst of temper always looks the worst. Don't you think so, my boy? Forget it for a few moments, and tell me about Elsie. Has she gone off in good spirits?"

"Yes, I believe so, but to tell the truth I had no thought for anyone but Dexie. Elsie will not get a chance to fret, I feel sure, but I wish Dexie felt half as bad about leaving home as she does. It would be a comfort to think about."

"I am quite surprised, Hugh! Surely you can see that Dexie's feelings for you are far from encouraging, and how can you think that two such firebrands—yes, you must excuse the term, if you do not like it, but it suits you both—do you think you two could be happy together? Have you thought of this matter seriously, Hugh? I am afraid not. Yet one should study well the character of the one whom we would choose to walk with along life's road. We all know something of Dexie's temper, for she has not tried to hide even her worst faults from us. With your own high temper, Hugh, it would be a great risk to link your life with hers. There is nothing so beautiful and complete as a happy married life, but there can be nothing so unutterably miserable as an unhappy marriage."

"Well, it may be as you say, and Dexie may not be suitable in some ways for me, but I can never care for anyone else as I care for her. If I could only win her, I would make her so happy that there would never be any cause for her to get angry with me."

But the memory of the words he had spoken on the roof a few short hours before stung him at this moment, and sharply reminded him of his inability to control himself as her lover. Would he be more likely to govern himself as her husband?

Seeing that Mrs. Gurney was regarding him closely, he hastily rose to his feet, saying:

"You are right, Mrs. Gurney, as you always are. I should not succeed in controlling my temper in the future any better than I have done in the past. I will try to overcome this foolishness. I love Dexie Sherwood too well to wish to bring one moment of sorrow into her life."

He left the room and sought his own chamber, and during the hour he sat there in silence he fancied he had buried forever every thought of tender regard for Dexie Sherwood. He even imagined that he could look with favor on Lancy, or anyone else, who would make her as happy as she deserved to be.

His magnanimous feelings were even puffed up to that degree that he was mentally witnessing her marriage ceremony, with Lancy as chief actor, when the sound of the dinner-bell recalled him to his senses. Yet, when he sat down to the table and beheld Lancy's empty seat, he ground his heel into the rug under the table, as if it were his enemy, for the thought occurred that Lancy, at this present moment, might be bending over the head so precious to him, or whispering words in her ears which he never wished her to hear, unless spoken by himself. Truly he did not know himself, and as the nature of his thoughts occurred to him he almost despised himself for his weakness. Surely he needed another grave than that he had dug while in the privacy of his own room; a grave that would keep entombed that which he wished to put forever out of his memory! It was only by bringing up to his mind his own imperfections that he could keep Dexie out of his thoughts.

But as days went by, and other matters of importance intervened, he was kept so busy, mentally as well as bodily, that his love was put back out of sight; he felt her absence less keenly, and his love for Dexie was thought of as a thing of the past.



CHAPTER XX.

We must now return to the young travellers, whom we left in the car, expecting to reach their destination by nightfall. In this they were disappointed, for when the train was within a few miles of Truro it came to a sudden standstill, throwing some of the passengers out of their seats, but seriously injuring no one.

"Something wrong with the engine!" was the explanation, when heads were thrust from the windows to inquire the cause of the trouble.

This explanation was received with due submission by those accustomed to railway travelling, but Elsie, her nerves unstrung by other causes, sat crying hysterically, and would give no heed to Lancy's repeated declaration that nothing serious was the matter.

"We will be detained here for a while, Elsie, but that is all," he added.

Elsie, though, seemed unable to control her sobs, and Dexie began to feel anxious, for these crying fits invariably brought on a nervous headache, and when at last the train started, Elsie was hardly in a fit state to continue the journey.

Under the circumstances Lancy deemed it best to stop over at Truro until the next trip of the Island boat. This would give Elsie time to recover, and they would have an opportunity to see something of the pretty town they had heard so highly praised.

Elsie felt relieved at this decision. She was unused to travelling, and found the short journey tiresome in the extreme; indeed her throbbing temples called imperatively for quietness and rest.

The train steamed into the dark, tunnel-like depot, and stepping out on the platform, they found, after some difficulty, the little room that was designated "The Waiting-Room," where Lancy left the girls to inquire for hotel accommodations.

While in semi-darkness they waited his return, Dexie tried to ascertain if there was not a pleasanter outlook than could be obtained from the door, but the one dust-encrusted window gave a dim and indistinct view from that quarter.

As if in answer to their wishes, Lancy speedily returned, and as they gathered up their wraps Dexie asked:

"Do you know why they call this room the 'waiting-room,' Lancy? Give a guess."

"Can't! I give it up," giving a glance around him.

"Well, I'll just tell you. This room has been 'waiting' for years for someone to clean it, and that is how it has earned its name. Even the rusty old stove has taken on the look of dejection that seems to haunt the place."

Lancy was beginning to think that the little town had been very much overpraised, as unfortunately the worst-looking part of it was situated near the depot, and he felt disappointed and vexed that they had not been able to continue their journey. His annoyance was increased when he learned that there had been an excursion to the town the day before, crowding the hotels, which had not yet recovered from the effects of the many disturbances that had taken place inside their doors.

It was a new experience to the girls, this seeking a temporary home at a public hotel, and the unpleasant features of hotel life, to which older travellers shut their eyes, were to them unbearable.

Entering the parlor of the hotel to which he had been directed, Lancy told the girls to be seated while he saw the proprietor; but the expression on the faces of both girls gave Lancy some uneasy feelings, and Dexie's uplifted nose told the cause of her disapproval.

"It will be no use for you to engage rooms here, Lancy," said she, "for if all smells like this we won't stay."

"Well, I will just order a lunch, and we can decide about rooms later on."

This was found to have been a wise precaution, as the disgusting fumes of stale tobacco-smoke and liquor, seemed to pervade every corner.

"It's no use being too particular, girls," said Lancy, as they rose from the table, and re-entered the parlor, "we will not be here but a day or two, you know."

"Well, but surely we can find some other place to stay in while we are here. We don't want to appear at Mrs. Fremont's with our clothes smelling like a bar-room!" said Dexie, rather sharply.

"Well, no doubt the next hotel will suit us better," and a few minutes later they entered its door.

But it was quite evident, even to Lancy, that they had not bettered their condition by going farther. The house had probably been very popular the day before, and there was an air of confusion about the place that added its unpleasantness to the atmosphere that must be breathed by those that sought the hospitality of the house. Elsie looked timidly around the parlor as she entered, as if expecting to see the ghosts of those who had offered up so much incense; but the room was vacant, all having departed, leaving behind a disagreeable reminder of their presence.

"We are just as badly off as ever," Elsie whispered timidly to Dexie. "It is not very much better, is it, Dexie?"

"No, I should say not. The very curtains are full of it. How can people bear it! Tobacco-smoke and rum! Do let us get out of here, Lancy, before anyone comes in!"

"Hush, Dexie! Someone will hear you."

"No danger! but do let us run before they see us here."

"But we must stay somewhere, Dexie," said Lancy. "What shall we do?"

Dexie felt provoked at their unpleasant position, and she replied in no gentle tone.

"Do! Well, I think if nothing better is to be obtained in the town, we will do as some of our ancient ancestors have done before us, we will 'lodge without, in the streets,'" and gathering up the wraps she walked out of the house, closely followed by Elsie, and more uncertainly by Lancy.

The case was becoming serious, but it had its ludicrous side as well, which reached its height when Dexie stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Throwing the wraps over her left arm, she raised her right hand high toward heaven, and exclaimed in dramatic tones:

"Tell me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roam, Is there no hotel in Truro where the landlord sells no rum?"

And the answer came, not from the winds she had apostrophized, but from an open window that she had not observed; and the answer was:

"Fair lady, there is none."

"There! I told you that someone would hear you, Dexie," said Lancy, vexed, yet amused at her behavior.

But Dexie stood as if unable to move, and gazed at the open window in astonishment.

But the owner of the voice now appeared at the door, and Dexie drew a sigh of relief as she saw what a good-natured, smiling face it was that looked into her own. He never belonged to that house, she felt sure, though it was nothing to his credit to be lounging inside its doors. However, it was not likely he would consider her remarks as personal, so she slowly regained her composure.

With a profound bow, the gentleman at the window said:

"There are no hotels such as you speak of in the town, but there are several private boarding-houses where travellers can be made comfortable. May I have the pleasure of directing you to one?" This to Lancy.

"If it would not be too much trouble, we would be very much obliged," and Lancy's natural state of mind slowly returned.

"Oh! no trouble at all," said the affable stranger; then turning to Dexie he relieved her of her armful of wraps, with a simple "Allow me, please," and started away with Lancy, who was carrying the so far unused lunch-basket, leaving the girls to follow at their own pace.

"Oh, Dexie! weren't you startled when that man spoke from the window?" said Elsie. "I thought I should faint away with fright."

"It is a good thing that you thought better of it, then, for they would have carried you right back into the hotel, and there would have been no escaping after that."

"Where do you suppose he will take us?" Elsie asked as they turned a corner.

"Couldn't say," was the unconcerned reply; "but as the place looks nicer the farther we go, there is no need to be alarmed. I hope we will be fortunate enough to secure lodgings on this pretty, tree-shaded street, for flower-gardens are as thick as houses. Oh, see! he is going into that house with the nice lawn in front of it."

A moment later they stepped through the gate that Lancy held open for them, while their new friend went briskly up the walk and entered the house in a manner that showed he was quite familiar with the place.

He had told Lancy as they walked along that he could recommend the house where he boarded, and as he gave such a good account of the place, Lancy determined to seek accommodation there.

"But there is one thing I must tell you," said the smiling stranger. "Mrs. Morris is pretty sharp of tongue, and may make very strict inquiries as to who was your grandmother, and what calling your great-grandfather followed, before she will allow you to engage rooms. But do not mind it. I fancy you can satisfy her on those points. She is as clean as a new pin and an excellent cook—two good recommendations, you will allow."

"Well, I hope my ancestors will please her, for my sister is much in need of rest. Is her husband of the same turn of mind as herself?" Lancy smilingly asked.

"She is a widow, as is also her sister, who lives with her. It is the latter who owns the place, but it is the younger and sharper one who keeps it in running order. But here we are. I'll go ahead and prepare the way for you," and he left Lancy to follow with the girls.

As they appeared at the door, Mrs. Morris was just coming towards it, saying in no gentle tone:

"Don't you know any better, sir, than to rush into the house like that, leaving all the doors wide open behind you! Do you suppose people will want rooms here if they are swarming with flies?"

"On my honor, madam, there were only two that ventured through the door! I counted them!" was the positive reply.

"Come in quickly, sir," to Lancy; "and you women—girls, I mean," taking a second look, and shutting the door the moment they were inside of it. "You want rooms and board," she added sharply, looking them well over. "And how comes it that young people like you are travelling around without your parents? Not running away, are you?"

"Oh, no, madam!" replied Lancy, keeping a straight face by a great effort. "We were on our way to Charlottetown, but the train was delayed by an accident, so we thought we would stay over in Truro and wait for the next boat."

"Didn't get hurt by the accident, did you? for this ain't no hospital, no way; only a plain boarding house for respectable people."

"We are not hurt in the least, madam, but we are very tired, and hope you will allow us to stay here for a day or two," Lancy hastened to explain, for her many objections began to alarm him.

"You come from Halifax, do you? Bad place that. Thieves and robbers thrive there, I'm told. How long have you lived there?"

This was addressed to Dexie, but she dared not open her mouth to answer lest she should laugh outright; and Elsie, fearing she might make some unfortunate speech that would send them to the right-about, hastened to reply: "For some years, ma'am; we used to live in England before we moved to Halifax."

"Oh! English, are you? I was afraid you were Irish. You resemble some I have seen. What trade does your father work at?"

"He has a store on Granville Street; but do let us stay here, please," Elsie replied, fearing that this catechising would result disastrously.

"Well, you seem proper enough. I guess you can stay." Then turning suddenly around to where their guide stood, biting his moustache, "This is Mr. Maxwell."

The two girls bowed, and Mr. Maxwell replied: "And I believe this gentleman's name is Gurney. Mr. Gurney, Mrs. Morris."

And Lancy, not to be outdone by all this formality, added: "Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Gurney, and her friend, Miss Sherwood."

"What! you are not sisters! I thought you were, though you don't look it, sure enough," said Mrs. Morris.

"I hope it don't matter, Mrs. Morris," said Dexie, who actually thought the woman might refuse to keep her. "We are very dear friends, Miss Gurney and I, and will gladly occupy the one room while we are here."

"Very well. Step into the parlor. I will bring my sister to see you," and she disappeared in a twinkling, but returned a few moments later in a quiet, dignified manner with her sister, saying:

"These young people want to stay here a few days. Shall we keep them?"

"Why, to be sure, Matilda. Take off your hats, my dears; you look warm. So you are only going to make a short visit, my sister tells me."

"Yes; we are going on to Charlottetown in a day or two," Dexie replied.

"Perhaps you would like to go to your room at once? Matilda, let them have the pink room; it will be the most pleasant. I will try and entertain the young man while they are gone," said Mrs. Gleason, whose manner was as quiet and pleasant as her sister's was sharp and abrupt.

But Maxwell had decided to see to the young man himself—long enough, at least, to find out something about his companion; so, as soon as Mrs. Morris left the room, he turned to the good-natured sister, saying:

"Let me take him to my room for awhile, Mrs. Gleason; then you will not be bothered with either of us," and, reading permission in her smiling face, he led the way upstairs.

The room Maxwell occupied was really worth visiting, and it told at a glance the character of the owner. Its walls were decorated with articles that would not have been allowed inside the doors had Mrs. Morris beheld them in time to utter a protest, for she was as timid about some things as she was sharp in others. For instance, there was a fine breech-loading rifle, dear to the heart of Maxwell, that hung on the wall above a brace of handsome revolvers. These were the cause of constant terror and alarm to Mrs. Morris, for she never entered the room without a look of fear in their direction. She fully expected them to "blaze away at her," notwithstanding the fact that Maxwell had repeatedly assured her that they were not loaded.

Then there were several stuffed animals that had been deprived of life by these very weapons, and Maxwell had their forms preserved in as natural an attitude as possible. While these added to the adornment of the room, they likewise served to increase Mrs. Morris' terror, and she could not get over the idea that they might "jump at her, for they always looked just ready to do it."

These, among other things, gave Mrs. Morris a particular aversion to the owner of the articles, for it was no trifling thing to keep this room well dusted and in proper order, with one's body in a quiver of fright all the time, not knowing from what direction she might be assailed.

But the treasure that took Lancy's eyes directly he entered the room was the display of fishing-rods that hung on the opposite wall, and he stepped up at once to examine them.

"That is a fine rod you have there," he remarked to Maxwell.

"Yes, rather; fishing is my favorite sport. I have caught a five-pounder with this light one," and in the discussion of flies, reels, etc., they were fast forgetting that they were utter strangers but two short hours ago.

Presently Maxwell asked, as if it had just occurred to him:

"Who is this young friend of yours, this Miss Sherwood? She is very amusing; quite an original, is she not?"

"Well, she is something different from the average young lady, if that is what you mean. She is an American."

"Ah! I thought as much; and your sister's particular friend, is she?" giving a sly look at Lancy.

"Yes," not heeding the look, but aware of the hint conveyed in the words. "My sister's health is not good, and Miss Sherwood accompanies her to Charlottetown, as she was not willing to go alone. They have been very intimate ever since Miss Sherwood moved to Halifax. I am sure they are both well pleased that we did not stay at the hotel, seeing that through your kindness we have secured such comfortable quarters here."

"Don't mention it! that appeal to the winds would have moved the hardest heart. I guess she got a start when I spoke from the window. Ha, ha! I fancy I see her yet. She would make a fine actress."

"You had better not make that remark to the lady in question. She would not consider it a compliment, I can tell you," said Lancy.

"No? Then what sort of a speech would your Miss Sherwood call complimentary?"

"Better try and find out for yourself," said Lancy, smiling. "It has been too hard a thing for me to discover for myself to give it away."

A few minutes later, hearing the voices of the young ladies in conversation with Mrs. Gleason downstairs, the young men joined them.

But the entrance of the gentlemen seemed to put a bridle on the tongues of the little party, for Dexie was not slow in perceiving that Maxwell was trying to quiz her, and it was very hard to withstand the good-humored banter of this young gentleman. She stood the teasing as long as she thought necessary, then her ready tongue made Maxwell confess that for once he had met his match, and the laughable occurrence of their first meeting was allowed to drop. Dexie was well aware that her snubbing was not relished, for Maxwell sat regarding her silently as she conversed in low tones to Elsie, pulling at his moustache with a restless movement that was quite annoying, if he only knew it.

Why is it that gentlemen who possess this ornamental appendage to their upper lip persist in using it so unkindly? You see it at all times and in all places, at home by their own fireside, in church, when the sermon is supposed to be occupying their attention, on the streets, in fact everywhere you will see the moustache undergoing torture at the hands of its possessor. Some merely smooth it out, or daintily curl the ends of it, if it happens to be long enough; some lick at it, like an animal at a lump of salt: some chew it savagely, till you wonder there is a hair of it left; in fact it is badly misused by the majority of men, for few leave it to serve its legitimate purpose.

After tea, at Mr. Maxwell's suggestion, the party went out for a walk. They strolled up and down the principal streets until twilight was almost over, and their first impression of the place was happily dispelled. They were willing to accord the same praise to the town as did others who had visited it. Cleanliness and thrift seemed the characteristics of the majority of the inhabitants, and the beautiful grounds and gardens that surrounded most of the houses spoke well for the taste of the owners.

When the time came for them to continue their journey, more than one member of the family regretted their departure, for their presence had quite brightened the household, and Dexie had won the approval of Mrs. Morris herself by her quick movements and practical remarks, and for the decided manner that refused all attentions from Maxwell.

"If you ever pass this way again you must come and see us," said Mrs. Morris at parting, "and if any of your friends ever visit the town we will be happy to accommodate them."

"Thank you, Mrs. Morris," said Dexie; "I will not forget it. We could hardly advise anyone to make an extended stay in your pretty town if they were obliged to patronize your hotels," looking up with a smile at Mr. Maxwell, who was waiting to accompany them to the depot.

"I am afraid our hotels have given you a poor opinion of the place, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Maxwell, as he fingered his moustache; "but you must remember that they are not intended for fastidious young ladies, but for the accommodation of the general travelling public."

"Then it does not speak well for the tastes of the 'general travelling public,'" replied Dexie, as they turned towards the depot, "and it is a pity that the one blot on your pretty town is just where it falls under the notice of strangers who enter it by the railway."

Years after, when Dexie made her next visit to the town, she was surprised to see the change that had taken place in the vicinity of the railway station. The gloomy, dingy depot had given place to one that was light, airy and commodious, and the unsightly buildings in the neighborhood were replaced by better and worthier structures.

The hotels she had so justly condemned were either obliterated or so improved upon as to be unrecognizable; and if the objectionable bar-rooms were not suppressed, public opinion had caused them to be placed in a more obscure corner of the building, and the respectable stranger was no longer insulted by their immediate presence. But of this more anon.



CHAPTER XXI.

The rest of the journey was made without mishap, and when the travellers arrived at the wharf at Charlottetown, they found Mrs. Fremont waiting to receive them, Lancy having informed her by telegraph of their detention.

Mrs. Fremont's residence was situated in the suburbs of the city, amidst a park-like grove that gave it a very English look in Lancy's eyes. The house was large and roomy, and furnished in a solid, comfortable style, that would make modern parlors look frivolous in comparison.

Dexie had no fault to find with her reception, for the whole party were so warmly welcomed that they felt "at home" at once. Mrs. Fremont's two daughters proved very pleasant companions. Beatrice, the eldest, was of a gentle, quiet disposition, and her very presence held in check her frolicsome younger sister; for Gertrude, who was fat, fair and seventeen, saw too much of the bright side of life to be anything else than good-natured and jolly, and finding her counterpart in Dexie Sherwood the days flew by on gladsome wings.

An enjoyable garden party was held a few days after the young people arrived, and by that means they became acquainted with a number of the young people in the city, and Elsie forgot her shyness in the pleasant bustle that made the days pass so swiftly. The daily drives in the low, comfortable carriage soon began to tell favorably on her health, and she did not find it at all hard to enter into the amusements planned for her benefit; but among all the pleasures that were attainable, one alone stood out above all others, one that neither Elsie nor Dexie ever cared to miss, and that was—to go marketing.

Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, the country people for miles around drove into Charlottetown, bringing with them whatever farm produce they had to dispose of. Great carts bearing vegetables, eggs, butter, berries and "garden truck" beyond mentioning, might be seen wending their way along the roads leading to the city in the early mornings on market days, and the products of the field, garden, poultry yard, etc., were offered for sale in and around the large market-house that was situated in the centre of the city. Here the people of the city came by hundreds to purchase whatever fancy dictated or needs demanded, making a scene that was worth coming far to see.

To educate her daughters into the difficult part of household management, Mrs. Fremont had given over to them the task of buying the supplies for the family. A sum, ample for a week, was given them, and at the end of the week the accounts were made up under the mother's supervision. If the daughters had planned wisely there was always a surplus, which was added to their pocket-money.

When Dexie learned of this, and realized the responsibility which these young girls took upon themselves as a part of their education, she was anxious to acquire the same accomplishment, and it became quite amusing to hear the prices of different articles discussed in such business-like tones, for Dexie and Elsie were often drawn into these discussions before they were aware of it.

In consequence of this, when market days came round, there was quite an important air about the four young ladies who drove towards the market-house, and there seemed to be a good deal of fun as well as business going on, if one might judge by their eager, happy faces, and the way the task was often unnecessarily prolonged.

One evening, when a party of young people were visiting at Mrs. Fremont's, a remark was made that brought about a discussion of a sect which are known in Prince Edward Island as McDonaldites or "Jerkers;" and after a description of the remarkable character of their meetings, there was much curiosity raised concerning them.

"You ought not to go home without attending a meeting, Mr. Gurney," said Mr. Holbrook, "for I do not think the like is to be seen anywhere else in the world. One visit is generally enough to satisfy most people, but to those who have good nerves one visit only whets the curiosity. For my part, I like to go and watch them whenever I find the opportunity."

"Well, I went once," said Gertrude Fremont, "and that was quite enough for me, and I do not call myself nervous or timid either. Still I would not have missed seeing them once for anything, but that experience is enough to last me a lifetime."

"I used to think that the people exaggerated when talking about the actions of the Jerkers," said Beatrice, "but I had to believe my own eyesight; it certainly is a very strange thing."

"I wonder if it is anything like what the slaves down South used to be affected with," said Dexie. "I have heard my grandma tell of prayer meetings in the negro quarters, where some of the slaves would act in the same way you describe, but I suppose it is not the same thing except in name. I should like very much to attend a meeting."

After much persuasion, Mrs. Fremont consented to allow the young people under her charge to attend a meeting of this peculiar sect, under the escort of Mr. Holbrook, but the consent was given reluctantly.

"I quite understand the curiosity you have to witness such a mode of worship," she said, smiling kindly at Dexie, "but I fear the result for Elsie. I am afraid it would quite unnerve her."

"But if she is the least frightened she need not stay in the church to watch them," said Lancy, who was eager to visit a McDonaldite church. "It must be a wonderful sight indeed, if the people go through such contortions as Mr. Holbrook speaks of."

A few days later the little party drove off in the comfortable covered carriage on a visit to Uigg. As they crossed the river to Southport they found several other carriages going in the same direction, so they followed on, journeying by the beautiful Vernon River road towards their destination.

There was but one thing that marred the enjoyment of the drive to Elsie, and that was that the day was Sunday; but her conscientious scruples were overpowered by those who voted that it was "no harm, surely, to drive to church on Sunday."

But Elsie felt that they were not going to church for a worthy motive, but only as sightseers, and, judging by the accounts they had heard, a visit to a McDonaldite or Jerkers' church was similar to going to a play or circus. Still her scruples were not strong enough to allow Lancy and Dexie to go without her, but the beautiful scenery through which they passed had for her no charm, for she felt, for the first time in her life, that she was a Sabbath-breaker.

Dexie had no such pangs of conscience, but enjoyed the drive to the utmost, and Elsie's oft-repeated remark that they "ought not to have come" found no response in the hearts of the rest. Happily for Elsie, a Sunday feeling soon possessed her, for Dexie, in the fulness of her heart, could not be silent, and as ordinary talk seemed out of place in the Sabbath stillness, she began to sing.

Elsie's voice soon joined the rest, and the sound of harmony rolled along with the carriage, and before they reached the church of the Jerkers, Elsie felt more at ease with herself and her surroundings.

It seems passing strange that while the Shakers, Quakers and other peculiar sects have all come in for a share of newspaper discussion, this most peculiar sect called McDonaldites, or Jerkers, have escaped the pen of the reporter. This may be due to the fact that, during the life of the great McDonald, Prince Edward Island was considered by travellers to be rather an out-of-the-way place and not worth visiting. But year by year the army of tourists is increasing, as the Garden of the St. Lawrence becomes better known, and a visit to a McDonaldite church may yet be one of the sights in store for my reader, for it is doubtful if such a sight can be witnessed in any other civilized community.

McDonald, the leader of the sect, has been dead many years. He was a man of powerful physique, and his mind must have corresponded to his large and vigorous body, for the power or influence which he had over his followers was something extraordinary, if not alarming. As his presence was not necessary to set the members of his Church in motion, and the "jerks" are kept up even to the present day, there may be some other explanation for the singular behavior of his followers; but the memory of their leader is held in reverence, and by many the "jerks" are still attributed to his power.

The writer has attended but one meeting where the great McDonald presided, and, being then young in years, the dress, or rather the undress, of the man was itself awe-inspiring. It was something unusual to see a man in the pulpit with his coat and vest laid aside and his shirt open, laying bare his brawny neck. The man himself was enough to create fear, but when the activity of the members began, discretion seemed the better part of valor, and we escaped without ceremony. It would be impossible to convey to the reader an idea of the awful excitement that always prevailed among his followers, when under the direct leadership of McDonald himself. Even the attempt to do so would be called exaggerated and untrue; but after witnessing through the open window the surprising actions of the congregation, we turned away, feeling that the half could not be told, for words would fail to portray the scene. The reader must be content with a meagre description of a visit to the church made many years after the death of the leader, when the excitement was less intense, to which meeting Lancy Gurney and his party are hastening.

There are several churches of this sect in different parts of the Island, but the principal church is in a country place called Uigg. The yearly sacrament is held at this church, and on these occasions the multitudes of worshippers who come from a long distance to attend this ceremony are almost doubled by the number of sightseers who flock to witness the sight. At such times the adjacent fences are lined with vehicles of every description, giving the place the appearance of a fair or horse market. These yearly meetings cannot begin to compare with those held during the lifetime of the leader, but those who never witnessed a meeting conducted by the Rev. Mr. McDonald could scarcely believe they were ever more startling than those held in later years.

With this digression we will return to our young travellers, who, having secured their horse under the sheltering trees by the roadside, and fortified their courage by doing justice to the lunch Mrs. Fremont had prepared for them, now entered the crowded church and stood among the number of observers in the aisle.

The inside of the edifice had an unfinished look, and the arrangement of the seats was uncommon, but to most people the seats themselves formed a most unusual sight, for they were all without backs, the reason of which soon became apparent.

The meeting had commenced, and the minister was preaching, but it must be confessed that there was little heed given to his words, for the attention of the people was attracted to the centre of the church, where a number of people were already under the peculiar influence; but our little party, being at a distance, watched the proceedings with a feeling of safety, yet not unmixed with fear and dread.

Presently a young girl about seventeen or twenty, who sat in a seat quite near, began to be affected, and all eyes were turned in her direction. She was dressed in what was probably called in her neighborhood the "height of style." On her head was a saucer-like bonnet of the "gypsy style," covered with large artificial flowers, which drooped over a chignon of such remarkable dimensions that it must have required a multitude of hairpins to keep it together; but her bonnet helped to keep it in place, as strings of ribbon were placed at the back, then brought forward under her chin in a flaring knot.

The peculiar actions of these people are well named "the jerks." In this instance the hands seemed to be the first part affected; a slight twitching was soon followed by a quicker movement, then her feet jerked about as if she were dancing a jig; a moment more and she flung her arms around wildly, while her head began to shake in quick time to the movements of the hands and feet. This soon loosened her chignon, the ingredients of which flew in as many directions, and her hair swept wildly about her face. Her bonnet fell at the back of her neck, but being held by the strings it bobbed up and down her back like an animated nosegay. She accompanied her movements with shrieks and screams that were better suited to a madhouse than a place of worship, and when exhausted nature finally succumbed, she fell back against those seated behind, who, very good-naturedly, it must be confessed, for she weighed more than a trifle, helped her to regain her senses and her seat. When she was able to sit up, her neighbors on either side handed back the articles of wearing apparel and pieces of headgear that she had scattered about, and the girl made a fresh toilet, as well as the limited stock of hairpins allowed.

A number of other cases equally startling were taking place in different parts of the church, and the backless seats were explained. It certainly was less dangerous for the "jerkers" to throw themselves back into the laps of those behind them than against the hard back of a seat. But the feelings of those who received the form of the exhausted enthusiast we do not profess to explain. It is probable, however, that those in the near vicinity of one who had the "jerks" would prepare themselves for the backward throw that so many execute at the last moment of their paroxysm. But to those who looked on, it seemed like a game of "give-and-take," as if each did not know what moment he might be under the same obligation to someone else.

While standing in the aisle Dexie passed her arm around Elsie's waist, lest they should be separated in the crowd. Dexie had become so engrossed in watching the worshippers that she had forgotten how the sight might affect her friend, but glancing into her face she saw that this was no place for one of Elsie's temperament. But the aisles were blocked; they seemed standing in a vice, with no power to move front or backwards. The enthusiasm seemed increasing every moment, and as almost every seat held an active member, the excitement in the church was appalling.

One young girl, quite near where Dexie stood, sprang to her feet with a shriek that caused Elsie to scream with fright, and Dexie bade her hide her face from the sight. But Elsie felt she must watch what was going on or else scream again, so great was her terror. The sight was indeed alarming, for the girl beat the air with her hands while she jumped up and down, until her movements appeared actually dangerous to those near her. Her head was thrown backward and forward with such violence and rapidity that it seemed a marvel how she escaped dislocation, and her whole body was in violent motion. At last she fell to the floor with a final shriek, where she struggled about for several minutes, much to the alarm of those in her immediate vicinity.

On all sides shrieks and cries mingled with the quick movements of those who had the "jerks," and Elsie could bear it no longer.

"Take me out, Dexie; I can't stay here another minute!" she cried.

Lancy was some distance away, but he pressed to her side, regardless of the bruised toes and sides he left behind him, and lifting Elsie in his arms pressed to the door, with Dexie closely following. They hurried away to where the noise of the worshippers was not quite so audible, and by degrees Elsie grew quiet and calm. Leaving them seated on the grass by the roadside, Lancy re-entered the church, the strange doings having a certain fascination which he could neither explain nor resist.

In a short time Elsie recovered sufficiently to walk around, but curiosity drew her again to the church, and they watched through the windows the peculiar actions of the people. But the excitement had now somewhat subsided, and Elsie urged that they enter the church again. Dexie was afraid of the effect which another such scene might have upon her friend, so she tried to persuade Elsie to stay and watch at a safe distance. Elsie felt sure she would not be alarmed again, so they entered the church and obtained a seat that had just been made vacant.

A few minutes later, the movements of an old woman attracted notice. They had watched her as she entered the church a short time before, and had pitied the poor, feeble creature, as she dragged herself up the aisle by the aid of a pair of crutches; but all pity left Dexie's heart as she saw the crippled creature thump the floor with her crutches, and bring them together over her head with a crash that rivalled the noise made by many of the hard-handed sons of toil, who had taken the "jerks" during the service.

"What makes them do it, Dexie?" said Elsie, in a whisper. "'And there was in the synagogue many people possessed of the devil;' that is the only solution of the mystery that I can see," was the reply.

"Oh, Dexie! do you really think that is what ails them? How awful!"

"'And there was one woman among them who had seven devils,' and that is she with the crutches, I think. Are you afraid? Shall we go out, Elsie?"

"It does scare me, but I cannot help looking at them," was the answer.

But the "jerks" now spread from one to the other, until pandemonium let loose could not be much more alarming. Elsie turned white with fear, but it was impossible to get out at the moment, as the aisles were blocked by terrified sightseers, their screams of fright mingling with the shrieks of those who had the "jerks." It is safe to say that no madhouse ever held a more excited crowd.

At this moment a heavy woman, who sat on the same seat that held Dexie and Elsie, began to be affected, and as the seats were only supported at each end, this one began to spring up and down, setting all those who were upon it in motion.

The two girls were on their feet in an instant, feeling for one awful moment that they were taking the "jerks" themselves; but finding the floor steady under her feet, Dexie soon regained her composure, and endeavored to quiet Elsie, who was now sobbing without restraint.

Out of this they must get at any hazard, and, drawing Elsie after her, she crossed to the door by stepping on the knees of the people who intervened, giving no thought to the outraged feelings of those she had used as stepping-stones to freedom.

As they reached the doorstep, they saw Mr. Holbrook at a distance, and were soon at his side.

"How soon can we get away from this awful place?" Dexie hurriedly asked.

"Well, I do not know, Miss Sherwood. Are you in a hurry to go?"

"Yes, that I am; I have had enough of this kind of worship, and Elsie must not go near the church again. Where is Lancy?"

"I believe he is inside the church; I saw him there a short time ago. He is much interested, I believe. I hope, Miss Gurney, that these excitable people have not seriously alarmed you."

"Oh, I don't want to see them any more!" cried Elsie. "I wish we could find Lancy, so we could start for Charlottetown."

"Do you know, I believe he wants you to stay overnight at some place near, so that he can stay to the evening service. Could you agree to that plan, do you think?" he asked.

"Certainly; if the place we have to stay is a good piece away from this church, out of sight and hearing of these people," replied Dexie, feeling that a drive back to town would be very tiresome after the exciting day they had spent.

"Well, suppose we start now? The drive will do you good," said Mr. Holbrook, as he turned towards their carriage; and as he led the horse on the road, he proposed that they start for Montague Bridge at once, describing it as a pretty hamlet about two miles from the church.

"But if Lancy should come and find the carriage gone, he would be anxious," said Dexie.

"Oh! I'll pin a note to the tree, so if he comes here it will explain our absence; but I will be back before the service is ended; and I fancy he will not leave the church till then. You are quite sure you have no objections to leaving him behind you, Miss Gurney?" he asked.

"Oh, no! But are you quite sure you can get us a nice place to stay? I suppose you know the place around here very well," she added.

"Yes, indeed; I have spent my life on the Island, Miss Gurney, and I know my fellow Islanders pretty well. I will leave you quite comfortable, never fear."

They were soon driving along at a rapid pace, and Dexie hoped that the scene in the church had passed from Elsie's mind, till her question to Mr. Holbrook proved the contrary. "Do tell us, Mr. Holbrook, what is it makes those people act so? Is it the talk of the minister that does it? I'm sure I could only hear a word now and then, though his lips kept moving even when the noise was the worst."

"That is a hard question to answer, Miss Gurney," was the reply. "Some say it is the Heavenly Spirit working within them; others think the spirit is not of a heavenly origin; others, again, say they are getting relief from the bondage of sin."

"Well, if that is the way they show their relief, I think it would be better to stay in bondage," said Dexie. "I wonder if it can be the same craze that used to affect the colored people down South. Grandma's people kept slaves, and I have heard of such actions amongst them, but if I ever heard the explanation of them I have completely forgotten it. Still one would hardly think that a superstitious negro craze would affect the clear-headed Scotch people in the same manner. It is a mystery to me how they live through it."

Mr. Holbrook laid back his head and laughed.

"But they are human, like other people, Mr. Holbrook," she urged; "and how is it that they do not hurt themselves? There was a man with a shock of red hair, sitting near the chimney, who took the 'jerks.' I daresay you noticed him. Now, unless his head is made of something different than ours, it must be smashed in on one side, for he struck the chimney with such rapidity and force that it sounded quite sickening from where we sat. Really, I should not have been surprised had he fallen dead to the floor."

"I daresay he never felt it," said Mr. Holbrook, smiling. "I do not believe that any of them know what they are about when they take the 'jerks,' or else some of the women are very careless of appearances."

"Oh! well, don't let us talk about them any more," said Elsie. "Papa often says that everyone has a right to his own belief, and these people seem to believe something, and they really must believe it without merely saying so, as so many of us do, or else they could not act out their belief in such a dreadful manner; but whatever their belief is, it must be awful!"

In a short time they entered the village, which was situated on both sides of a river, connected by the bridge that gave the place its name. Mr. Holbrook drove at once to a house where he knew the girls would have every attention, and the pleasant face of the woman who welcomed them at the door seemed to speak of rest and security to be found beneath her roof.

With a few words of explanation Mr. Holbrook left them, promising to be back in good season with Lancy. He then returned with all speed to the church of the McDonalds, where he found the energetic members still in active motion.



CHAPTER XXII.

"What a relief to find ourselves safe and quiet once more!" said Elsie, as she leaned back in her chair with a sigh of content. "I did not know I was so tired."

"A visit to the McDonaldite church is apt to fatigue both body and mind," said their hostess, Mrs. Gardner. "It does not seem right, does it, for people to leave their own church to witness such doings?" she added seriously. There was a mild rebuke in her words, and Elsie remembered with a pang that it was Sunday. She had given little thought to the fact during the last few hours.

"No, I am sure it can't be right, Mrs. Gardner," said Elsie, "but we were so interested when we heard about these 'Jerkers' that we wished to see them before we went home."

"Then you do not belong on the Island. Where is your home, my dears?" she asked, as she stepped briskly about preparing the tea.

"We are from Halifax," Dexie answered.

"And is it possible that you are the daughter of Mr. Sherwood, who buys horses on the Island? Why, we know him well. He always stays here when he comes this way. Well, well; many's the time he has told us about his twin girls, but I never expected to see one of them here. Are you the beauty or the singer?" she smilingly asked.

"Now, Mrs. Gardner," said Dexie, laughing, "I am sure you can see for yourself that I am not the beauty."

"Then you are the singer; but your looks will do very well. Uncommon beauty is often a snare to its possessor, and the ability to sing God's praises is worth far more. Are you too tired to do so to-night?"

Dexie looked up with a question in her eyes, and Mrs. Gardner added,

"There is a service in our meeting-house to-night. Would you like to attend it with me?" turning to Elsie.

"Yes, indeed; I would love to go. The day will not seem all lost if we spend a short time of it properly. But do tell us, Mrs. Gardner, what makes those people take the 'jerks'? It seems such a queer kind of religion."

"My dear, I have lived in these parts for more than twelve years, and I am acquainted with several families of McDonaldites, but I never yet learned why they take the 'jerks,' or what they signify, but I know that there are many good religious people belonging to the sect."

"But they might be good people on account of their religion or in spite of it," said Dexie.

Mrs. Gardner looked over at Dexie with a serious face.

"I wonder if you can repeat the first verse of the first Psalm. Try it, my dear," she said.

"I do not think I can say it word for word, Mrs. Gardner," said Dexie, presently; "but it is something like this, 'Blessed is the person who never goes where he knows he ought not to be, and who never sits down in the seat of the scornful.' Thank you, Mrs. Gardner, I see the application," she added, smiling. "I fear I have been on that seat to-day, and I have no right to be scornful when I am such a heathen myself. Yet I never attend an impressive service that I do not wish I were a good member of that particular church, no matter what denomination it happens to be. But to-day, although I have witnessed the most impressive service of my life, I never wished I was a good McDonaldite; no, not once. Now, you needn't laugh, Elsie, for you know yourself I can jump around just as lively as most people, and I am sure I could go through some of the most surprising movements if I tried, but I never once felt the least desire to emulate the members of that church, so I conclude that I have not been benefited by attending that wonderful gathering; yet I have always thought that any religious service that does not inspire you with a desire to join heart and soul in it, is a miserable failure. I am afraid if I had to choose between the two, I would rather be a dancing dervish than a McDonaldite. However, perhaps if I understood the doctrines of each I might choose the other way. But that brings me back to the beginning again, and makes me wonder how it is that no one seems to really know why they take the 'jerks,'" turning to Mrs. Gardner.

"Well, since none of us do know, let us try to forget about them for the rest of the evening," said she. "It is a comfort to know that there is a religion which the simplest can understand, and a service in which we can all unite without committing any impropriety."

A few preparations followed, and they were soon on their way to the Methodist chapel, where the reverential feeling that always filled Elsie's heart when inside a place of worship was not now wanting, as it had been while inside the church of the McDonalds, and she followed the example of Mrs. Gardner and bowed her head in silent prayer.

The service was opened by singing a hymn—one of those good old-fashioned, heartfelt songs that are dear to the hearts of all Christian people, whatever may be their Church or creed—and a feeling of strong emotion filled Dexie's heart as it rolled from the throats of the people around her, then her own clear, full notes rose above the assembled voices.

The minister lifted his eyes, and rested them a moment on the owner of the voice; but, thinking that he supposed she was just singing for effect, Dexie remained silent while the next verse was sung. A look of disappointment was reflected on the faces of those around her; but Dexie was not prepared for the pointed rebuke that was given as the minister read out the next verse.

"When the Lord gives a good voice, He expects the owner to use it for His glory; so let all sing who can sing, and do not be afraid to praise God in His own house."

Dexie felt that the words were directed to her, and wisely obeyed, fearing a more open command might be given her from the pulpit, and she detected the nod of approval that was given as she lifted her eyes to the preacher.

When the service was over, Mrs. Gardner introduced her young charges to those near her, and as the minister came down among his congregation he was presented to the strangers also.

A few pleasant words followed the introduction; then, drawing Dexie aside, he said:

"I felt sorry to have to reprove you before the whole congregation, seeing that you were a stranger here; but after showing us that you could sing, it was very wrong and unkind to be silent. You know, the verse says, 'Let those refuse to sing who never knew our Lord,' and I would be sorry to place you on the left hand when you are so well able to sing God's praises."

Dexie did not know whether to be amused, hurt or vexed. The words uttered were words of rebuke, but the odd manner in which they were said and the humorous twinkle in the minister's eyes did not well agree. He waited a moment for her answer, still holding her hand and looking down into her face with a serio-comic expression quite unlike a clergyman, until Dexie answered, in a low tone,

"I will remember what you said, and will always sing when I can, though I should not like to be spoken to right out in church very often."

"That's right," said Mr. Barkly. "I am glad to know that I have made an impression on one of my congregation, at least, and that your sin of omission will not be repeated. There is nothing like a personal remark to bring people to a sense of their shortcomings; so let this be a warning to you, Miss Sherwood," and he walked down the aisle at her side. "I hope, Miss Sherwood," he added, "that your stay amongst us will allow us the privilege of hearing your voice again. With a good preacher and a fine singer as inducements, we ought to bring out a large congregation, eh?"

Dexie looked up quickly, but the ministerial air could not hide the rich vein of humor in the man, and she smilingly replied,

"I should not like to be reproved before a larger audience than was here this evening, Mr. Barkly, and I might unintentionally do something that would bring it upon me; so I think the preacher must depend on himself, as we expect to return to Charlottetown to-morrow."

A few parting words, and the group separated, and Dexie found herself by Elsie's side, walking towards their temporary home.

As they were very tired, they decided not to await Lancy's arrival, so at an early hour they asked to be shown to their room, and its spotless purity spoke well for the housekeeper.

"However shall we get into that bed, Dexie?" said Elsie, as the footsteps of Mrs. Gardner were no longer audible.

"That is just what I was wondering myself," and Dexie stood regarding the high, old-fashioned four-poster. "Do you suppose they use a step-ladder, or jump into it from the table? Why," lifting up the counterpane and sheets, "it's just a mountain of feathers; we must spring into it from this chair." A little later her smothered laughter camp from its depths, and the laugh was repeated when Elsie sank beside her.

When they came downstairs next morning they found Lancy waiting for them, and a few minutes later Mr. Holbrook put in an appearance, making a merry little party as they sat round the cosy breakfast table.

At the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Gardner, they consented to stay a few days longer at Montague Bridge, and visit the places of interest in the vicinity.

"I will leave the horse and carriage, and return to town with a friend, and report to Mrs. Fremont," said Mr. Holbrook, "so you can drive around the country here; and when you are ready for home just follow the telegraph poles, and you'll not miss your road. You have made a good thing of it by visiting Montague Bridge."

A few days later the new friends they had made were left behind, and they were again in sight of Charlottetown.

When they arrived at Mrs. Fremont's they were received with delight, as there had been a picnic planned, and they were waiting the return of the little party from Montague, in order to announce the day.

After the pleasant bustle of preparation had resulted in hampers of delicacies, a lively procession of vehicles, filled with happy people, started for Stanhope Bay, a lovely spot on the north shore of the Island.

The high sandbanks that here border the waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence were a source of wonder and amusement to those of the party who were strangers to the place, but woe to the one who stepped unwittingly near the edge of the bank! for the yielding sand gave no foothold, and an awkward slide down the face of the bank was always the result. But the shore below was as firm and smooth as a sanded floor, and soon every member of the party had thrown dignity aside and let themselves down through the warm dry sand to the beach, where they sought for treasures of the deep in the shape of pretty shells and other sea beauties, that were thrown up by the mighty waves that here dash on the shore in thundering tones when tempests rule the waters of the Gulf.

It was only when a sense of hunger brought to mind the full baskets awaiting them in the grove at the top of the bank, that they turned their backs on the restless waves, and essayed to climb the steep sandbanks.

But a complete knowledge of mountain-climbing was of little use here; it was each one for himself in the scramble for the top, for there could be little help given either in front or rear.

A mad rush up the bank, at an angle that offered some slight foothold, brought Dexie, hot and panting, to the top, and she turned to give a word of instruction to Elsie, who was trying to climb the steep face of the bank only to find that she slipped back almost as fast as she ascended.

"Go back to the bottom, Elsie, and make a run for that bunch of grass where I came up; you will never get up there; watch Gertrude Fremont. Now, Elsie, run for it!"

After a few minutes' hard climbing, Elsie reached the top, and the next few minutes were spent in shaking their skirts, and emptying their shoes from the accumulation of sand that filled every crevice. A smooth spot was then found to do duty as a table, and the snowy cloths were spread, when the contents of the heavy baskets revealed themselves, and all the delights of a picnic in the woods were present in abundance.

Even the long-legged spiders, who invariably invite themselves to such gatherings, and persist in walking over and around the various viands, were here represented by members of the family who seemed to be great grandfathers of their tribe, judging by their size; and the dexterity shown by some of the young gentlemen in picking up these wandering vagrants and sending them back into oblivion, called forth much praise from the female portion of the party.

After a day of delightful enjoyment, the hour arrived for them to return home, and having so much less to pack up than there was at starting, they were soon on the journey homeward.

Before the picnickers separated, there was a driving party arranged to go to Rustico Beach, Brackly Point or Cove Head, for another day's outing, and the day was set for the drive.



CHAPTER XXIII.

The next morning, when the mail was opened, Dexie received a letter from home, in which, beside the commonplace news, there were pages devoted to a startling and amusing announcement.

"Just think," Gussie wrote, "there is a man at the Gurney's who has come all the way from Australia to find Hugh, and to tell him about the fortune left him by his father. It amounts to a very large sum, and will make Hugh one of the wealthiest men in the Province, so, of course, he is now quite a different person in my eyes than when he was a mere clerk. Unfortunately for me, he is not so agreeable and friendly as he used to be, and he does not come in to see me nearly so often as formerly, but I manage to meet him frequently, and treat him with so much favor that I am quite sure I will have no difficulty in securing him. I have been teasing mamma to buy me some more new dresses, for I feel quite shabby now that there is a prospect of possessing so much wealth. I am sure we will be a fine-looking couple, for Hugh looks particularly handsome lately, but rich men always look well in the eyes of a young lady. If you are asked to stay for a long visit, I would advise you to do so, as it is much more convenient for me to have you away just now."

Dexie smiled at this, but turned over the page and read on: "I shall send you word as soon as I am engaged, for then I shall want your help on my trousseau. As you are visiting among fashionable people, I wish you would keep in mind whatever dressy garments you see that would suit my style. Hugh wished to be remembered to you, and was anxious to know when you would return, but I do not see that your movements concern him."

There were more pages in the same strain, and Dexie smiled at the many things Gussie had disclosed without being aware of it. She could read between the lines, and the reason of Hugh's inquiries on her behalf were not hard to guess. But Dexie knew it would be a great disappointment to Gussie if she failed in her schemes, and she was willing enough to prolong her visit if it favored Gussie's future prospects, but she knew that Hugh's pocket-book was far dearer to Gussie than Hugh himself.

Lancy had received a letter also, and Hugh's unexpected good fortune was told at length. Hugh's father had not died during the journey to the Australian gold diggings, as had been reported, but he had changed his name, and so was lost sight of, until he had accumulated the fortune that now fell to his son. Lancy wondered if Hugh's better prospects would have any influence on Dexie; he knew well that Hugh would use his money as a stepping-stone to Dexie's favor. Perhaps Dexie surmised what was going on in his mind, for she passed him her letter with permission to read it. After they retired from the breakfast room, they discussed the news together. Lancy felt ashamed to think he could not feel as pleased about it as he ought, and Dexie listened with heightened color as he told his fear of being set aside for Hugh.

"Lancy, you must remember I am free to do as I like with my future," she said, with flushed cheeks, "for I have not given you the least word of a promise; but let me tell you once and for all, that Hugh cannot buy my favor, and he has not been able to obtain it by coaxing, or brute force either."

"Dexie, what do you mean?" was the quick reply. "What has he said or done that you speak like this?"

"Let us go to the summer-house, Lancy, and I think I can satisfy your mind on one point, and that is, if I fail to appreciate your attentions as you think they deserve, you need not lay the blame on Hugh McNeil," and, standing under the shadow of the swinging vines, Dexie related the substance of the interview on the kitchen roof the evening before they left Halifax.

"The scoundrel! and he dared to threaten you, and was actually going to throw you from the roof! Why did you not tell me, Dexie, and I would have horsewhipped him if it had cost me my life!" And he dug his heel into the gravel, as if he had his enemy beneath it.

"Don't, Lancy; it is all over, so try to forget it. I know that Hugh felt sorry for his burst of temper the moment after, but he could not unsay the words, and I would not forgive them—that is why he felt so badly when we parted on the train. I did not intend to tell you of it, Lancy; so do not look so vexed."

"Oh! if I only could lay my hands on him, I would pay him for his impudence and brutality! but, Dexie, were you not very frightened?" and he clasped her hands in his own, and looked earnestly into her face.

"For the moment, when I turned my head and saw the stones beneath me, I was almost sick with fear, but I think my temper saved my life just then, for I turned on him and dared him! Oh! I could have torn him limb from limb, I was that angry! I broke the commandment a dozen times as I stood there before him—I mean the one that says 'Thou shalt do no murder.' I killed him in my heart, I mean. However, I feel real pleased to hear of his good fortune, so I think I must have repented; but I'm not quite sure," she laughingly added.

"My brave Dexie! that is no easy matter to forgive!" said Lancy earnestly.

"Oh, well! I am going to forgive everything, and be as amiable as possible to my future brother-in-law. You see, Gussie has claimed him already. Now, you must keep this to yourself, Lancy, or I will never tell you anything again; but you see how foolish it is to hold up Hugh as my possible lover. Are you satisfied now?"

"No, not quite, Dexie, but if you will tell me what you refused to tell Hugh, then I will be," and he drew nearer her side.

"Then I guess you can remain unsatisfied, Sir Launcelot, for I will not confess to a feeling I am not sure of possessing."

"But you will confess that no one else holds the first place—that you love no one else? You will tell me that much, surely, Dexie?" and he tried to read the answer in her dark eyes.

"Well, yes, Lancy. I can safely concede that much without committing myself, but you need not begin to build air castles on that!"

A step sounded on the gravel walk, and Elsie's head appeared through the swinging vines at the door.

"Here I have been searching for you for half an hour! Whatever have you two been doing here, all by yourselves? Not love-making, surely; but your face looks guilty, Dexie," and she looked keenly at her brother, to see what his earnest tones might have meant.

"Well! you little Paul Pry! we were love-making and love-breaking, both. You came just in time to hear that my engagement to Lancy is—not a settled thing," and she laughed at the surprise in Elsie's eyes. "So please unsay what you told Mrs. Fremont in the parlor last evening. But what are your wishes, Miss Gurney?"

Elsie returned her bow with great formality and replied "Miss Beatrice Fremont sends her compliments, and will Mr. Gurney be kind enough to drive us to the market this morning, as Miss Gertrude is otherwise engaged."

"With pleasure, but such dignity ill becomes your youthful brow, sister mine. Did mother tell you the news about Hugh?"

"No! She said you would tell me the news your letter contained."

"Well, just think! Hugh's father has been alive for years, long enough to lay by a big fortune for Hugh. But he took a fever and died, just when he was almost ready to return to England. He managed to get a trusty man to see after his business, who has arrived in Halifax, and Hugh is rich enough to buy us all out if he wants to. Mother says he has made no plans for the future yet, but frequently asks when we are expected home, though why he is anxious about us, I can't see."

Something caused him to glance at Dexie, and the peculiar smile on her face made Lancy understand at once the reason of the frequent inquiries. Hugh did not care to make plans for the future until Dexie had returned, when her acceptance or refusal of his suit would have something to do with his future plans. But after hearing Dexie's story, Hugh's anxiety on their account did not trouble him further.

As they walked towards the house, Elsie expressed a hope "that Hugh and Gussie would soon get married, and would give them a good party to celebrate the event," and Dexie heartily seconded her wish.

But even Hugh's good fortune was set aside, for this was market day, and on no account would they miss the drive to the crowded mart. They were soon speeding along the level road, past cartloads of farm products of every kind, which were slowly making their way towards the same goal. While Beatrice was making her purchases the two girls wandered about to view the busy scene, but they soon became aware that the attention of a broad-shouldered countryman was directed to themselves. Dexie wondered where she had seen the man before, as his face looked familiar, but her memory was refreshed by the outspoken and hearty greeting that met her ears.

"Bless yer bonnie face! If this aren't Mr. Sherrud's dochter, I'm mista'en! What! dinna ye ken the auld farmer McDonald, that was seein' ye in Halifax? Oh, I thocht ye'd ken me! An' whan did ye come owre?" and her hand was grasped and given a hearty shake as she tried to answer his many questions, for the pleasure of the meeting was easily read in the open countenance before her.

"Weel, weel! but it's pleased I am to hae met ye the day, an' is yer faither as smart as ever?" and seeing him glance towards Elsie she remembered herself and introduced her friend.

"She is our next-door neighbor in Halifax," Dexie explained.

"An' ye are both owre for a visit? Weel, weel, an' ye never telt me ye were comin' at a', at a'. But whaur are ye stayin', if I may ask?"

"At Mrs. Fremont's. I am here at Miss Gurney's invitation, and her friends have been very kind to me. We have been here a little more than three weeks."

"An' ye never sent me word! If I had kent ye were here, I wad hae sent doon for ye afore."

"You are very kind, indeed, Mr. McDonald, but I am here with friends this time, and I am afraid I cannot leave them."

"Hoot, noo! ye needna leave them; there's room at the farm for ye a'. Hoo mony is there besides this ane?"

"One young man."

And catching sight of Lancy, a short distance away, she called his name and he stepped at once to her side.

"This is Mr. Gurney, a brother to my friend here."

"Ay, ay; I remember him," greeting Lancy heartily. "An' hoo dae ye like the look o' the Islan'?"

"Very much, indeed!" Lancy replied. "It is a fine place, and we have been enjoying ourselves immensely."

"But ye haena been up oor way yet! If I'd only kent ye were here I wad hae had ye up afore this," he repeated.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. McDonald, but we could hardly impose on your good-nature as far as that."

"Impose, is't? Ma dear sir, it's prood an' happy we wad be to hae ye come to see us. You maun gie me yer promise to come afore ye gang back to Halifax. The gran'mother wad be sair hurt at no seein' ye. Whan could ye come, noo?" turning to Dexie.

Just then Beatrice Fremont came towards them, and her smile of recognition told Dexie that the farmer was well known to her.

"I did not know you were acquainted with my friends, Mr. McDonald," and she extended her hand.

"I ken her faither weel, an' I met the dochter whan I was abroad," he replied with a smile, "but I never expected to meet ony Halifax folk the day. It's her faither that did me the kindness whan I was in Halifax that I'll never forget, an' it's weel pleased I am to meet them. Is't at your place they are staying, Miss Fremont?"

"Yes," replied Beatrice, smiling, "but I think I heard you trying to coax them away from us, Mr. McDonald."

He looked up into the bright face and replied:

"Ay, I want to show them that I dinna forget their kindness to me whan I was a stranger in a strange land, an' no wishin' to rob ye o' yer visitors at a', I was tryin' to hae them say whan they wad come up to the farm, for it's masel' that'll come efter them, whanever they say the word."

"You need not be afraid to accept the invitation, girls," said Beatrice, as the farmer turned to say a few words to Lancy. "Your presence would cause no trouble; they are always so glad to have visitors that it is a pleasure to go. I spent several weeks there last summer, and I know they would all be glad to see you."

"It is well enough for Dexie to go," said Elsie, "but it would be very rude for me to go on such short acquaintance."

"There, Elsie, I stand condemned. Behold me, a visitor at Mrs. Fremont's, and we never knew of each other's existence before the visit was planned," said Dexie.

"But this is different, Dexie," Elsie hurried to explain.

"The difference is in your favor, Elsie."

"I think I can promise that they will be as glad to see you both at the farm as we were to have you here, and you know your being no relation does not matter to us."

"Well, I would dearly love to go," Dexie said. "It will be such a chance to see that part of the country, and by the way papa speaks of the McDonald homestead we would like it very much."

"Then you cannot do better than spend a few days at the seaside with him. There is a fine beach near, and chances for sea-bathing and all the rest of the delights of a seaside farm. If you like, Gertrude will go with you and stay for the first day or two."

"Is there a beach and sandhills like Stanhope Bay?" Dexie asked.

"Yes, only better, I think; and they have boats and go fishing sometimes. I am sure you would enjoy yourselves."

Lancy had been talking to Mr. McDonald during this conversation, but he now turned to them, saying:

"What do you say, girls, to accepting this kind invitation? Shall we go in a body?"

"They would all like to go, Mr. McDonald, but they are afraid they will crowd you," said Beatrice, smiling; "but I know so much better than that, that I am going to send Gertrude along with them. You will give her house-room, I know."

"Hoose-room, is't; there's plenty o' that; but hoo shune can ye a' come up?" he anxiously inquired.

"Well, not till next week, Mr. McDonald. We have planned to go for a picnic to Brackly Point, but you can tell the girls at home to look out for them next Wednesday; you need not take the trouble to come in for them, Mr. McDonald; I know how busy you are on the farm, and Gertrude knows the road. You must not let them run wild," she laughingly said, "but keep them well in order. But I must hurry home or I shall not be in time to give cook these vegetables for dinner. You must call in and see us on your way out of town, Mr. McDonald," and promising to do so he walked with them to where the carriage was waiting, and they drove home discussing the proposed visit as they went. Dexie then explained how she became acquainted with the farmer, and gave them a short account of the troubles he had experienced while visiting Nova Scotia.

"He shows to better advantage when he is at home on his own farm," said Beatrice. "He told us how he fell among thieves when he was in Halifax, and how a kind gentleman befriended him, but I did not expect I would ever know any of the family that he praised so highly when he told us the story. He supplies us with winter vegetables, and we are quite friendly, I assure you."

"How strange things do happen! I never expected to set eyes on the man again, and here we are planning to visit his home. A chain of circumstances, linked together, stretches a long way, even though the links are small and insignificant in themselves."

"Yes; it would have been a great disappointment to him had you refused his invitation. He loves to have visitors in the house. I can speak from experience, for I have been there with Gertrude. I expect Mr. McDonald did not impress you favorably when he was in Halifax, but in his own place you will not find a finer man anywhere."

"I can well believe it, but—oh! Beatrice, what is that?"

As they turned a corner they came upon a man standing in the centre of the street ringing a bell which he held in his hand, and instantly the doors and windows in the neighborhood were peopled, and pedestrians within earshot all stopped at the sound.

"Oh! who is it? What is he saying?" cried the girls.

"Listen," and she checked the horse. "It is old Hatch, the town-crier; something is lost."

The bell stopped, and in a loud voice the man read from a paper:

"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Lost, lost! On market square, a tin box, containing papers. The finder will be rewarded by leaving it with the city marshal at the court-house. Oh, yes! Oh, yes!"

The bell rang again at the conclusion of the proclamation, and the man hurried on to the next street-crossing, where the loss was again set forth, his voice coming back in waves of sound as the carriage rolled farther away.

"The 'town-crier,'—that means a crier hired by the town, does it?" said Lancy. "I thought there was not such a thing this side the Atlantic. Why do not people advertise their losses?"

"That is the way they do it," said Beatrice, smiling, "and it pays better, particularly on market days, than to put it in all the city papers. It is the quickest way to make a loss known, or to advertise a sale, for everybody listens to old Hatch, or Mr. Hatch, I should say. It is very old-fashioned to have a town-crier, I suppose, but we should miss him very much, though I daresay the office will die with the present crier."

"I think it is an old English custom," said Lancy. "I have read of criers going through the streets to announce great events, such as battles and other public matters, but I thought they were out of date long ago."

The events of the morning were duly discussed with Mrs. Fremont when they arrived at the house, and she assured them that no thought of inconvenience need cause them to shrink from accepting Mr. McDonald's invitation. Their visit would bring pleasure to all the members of the family.

"You will not find the family rude and rough, as some country people are. The girls are bright and intelligent, though full of fun and frolic," she added. "You will be sure to enjoy yourselves, and should there come a rainy day you will find plenty to amuse you in their quaint though comfortable farmhouse."