which he appeared to have been the innocent cause.

Upon this Cyril Harkness took a whim into his head, which he made known
to all his friends in the place, and then to Eliza--a most extraordinary
whim, for it was nothing less than to go down to Quebec, and take the
street preacher under his own protection.

"I feel as if I had a sort of responsibility," said he, "for I was at
the very beginning of this whole affair, and saw the house where he had
lived, and I got real well acquainted with his partner, who no doubt had
ill-treated him. I saw the place where a daughter of his perished too,
and now he's got so near up here as this, I can't bear to think of that
old man being ill-treated and having no one to look after him. I'm going
right down to Quebec by the Saturday-night train, an' I'll be back
Monday morning if I can persuade the old gentleman to come right here
where I can look after him. I reckon there's room in the Harmon house
for both him and me, an' I reckon, if he's got anything particularly
powerful to say in the way of religion, it won't do this little town any
harm to hear it."

He had said all this to Eliza.

"Don't!" she cried in great surprise, but with determined opposition. "I
shall never think you have any sense again if you do such a foolish and
wicked thing."

"Why now, Miss White, as to losing your good opinion, I didn't know as
I'd been fortunate enough to get it yet; and as to its being wicked, I
don't see how you make _that_ out."