colour on her cheeks.

"Has your friend the doctor's son come home, Jack?" says she.

"I heard that it was expected."

"Ah! then it must have been him that I met on the muir."

"What! you met Jim Horscroft?"

"I am sure it must be he. A splendid-looking man--a hero, with curly
black hair, a short, straight nose, and grey eyes. He had shoulders
like a statue, and as to height, why, I suppose that your head, Jack,
would come up to his scarf-pin."

"Up to his ear, Edie!" said I indignantly. "That is, if it was Jim.
But tell me. Had he a brown wooden pipe stuck in the corner of his
mouth?"

"Yes, he was smoking. He was dressed in grey, and he has a grand deep
strong voice."

"Ho, ho! you spoke to him!" said I.

She coloured a little, as if she had said more than she meant.

"I was going where the ground was a little soft, and he warned me of
it," she said.

"Ah! it must have been dear old Jim," said I. "He should have been a