were few things he did not think over as he sat looking into the
fire. What if this young man should unwittingly steal away his
darling's heart and then flit away to some other flower, and leave
this, his own treasure, with all the soul gone out of her life. He
believed Mr. Monteith to be an honourable man, but then he would
hedge this blossom of his about and guard it carefully. There should
be no opportunity for tender speech that meant nothing.

One day Edna was in town, passing through one of the busy streets.
Among the gay turnouts came one that caught her attention instantly:
a prancing span of grays before a light sleigh. Among the furs and
gay robes sat Mr. Monteith and a young lady, beautiful to Edna as a
dream. Even in the hurried glance she noted the pink and white
complexion, the blue eyes peeping through golden frizzes, set off by
a dark-blue velvet hat with a long white plume. Mr. Monteith raised
his hat and bowed low to Edna in pleased surprise. Edna went on with
a little pang at her heart; it might have been less had she known
that Miss Paulina Percival's invitation to ride came in this fashion:
Making it convenient to emerge from a store just as Mr. Monteith came
from the bank and was about to step into his sleigh, she engaged him
in conversation, then exclaimed:

"Oh, Mr. Monteith! What a lovely span of greys, they match
perfectly." Then with a pretty pout: "Naughty man, you never asked me
to try them."

"Suppose I ask you now," he said, and even while he spoke he said to
himself, "Edna Winters would never have done that."

Miss Percival needed no urging; she was soon seated in triumph by Mr.