himself a capable officer; but, to my mind, he looked more like a
soldier when he was at Sandhurst than he does now."

Mrs. Ashborne glanced toward Millicent, who was distributing a basket
of peaches among a group of untidy immigrant children. One toddling
baby clung to her skirt.

"What a charming picture! Miss Graham fits the part well. You can see
that she's sorry for the dirty little beggars. They don't look as if
they'd had a happy time; and a liner's crowded steerage isn't a
luxurious place."

Mrs. Keith smiled as Millicent came toward her with a few of the small
children clustered round her.

"I have some English letters to write," she said; "and I think we'll go
in."

The Challoners did not leave for the West the next day. About an hour
before sunset they leaned upon the rails of a wooden gallery built out
from the rock on the summit of the green mountain that rises close
behind Montreal. It is a view-point that visitors frequent, and they
gazed with appreciation at the wide landscape. Wooded slopes led
steeply down to the stately college buildings of McGill and the rows of
picturesque houses along Sherbrook Avenue; lower yet, the city, shining
in the clear evening light, spread across the plain, dominated by its
cathedral dome and the towers of Notre Dame. Green squares with trees
in them checkered the blocks of buildings; along its skirts, where a
haze of smoke hung about the wharves, the great river gleamed in a
broad silver band. On the farther bank the plain ran on again, fading