"Yes; and you start fair, ladies. Start with Jacques Cartier, ancient
mariner of Dieppe, in the year 1535. No favoritism in this
investigation; no bringing forward of Champlain or Montcalm prematurely;
no running off on subsequent conquests or other side-issues. Stick to
the discovery, and the names of Jacques Cartier and Donnacona. Come, do
something for an honest living."

"Who was Donnacona?" demanded Mrs. Ellison, with indifference.

"That is just what these fascinating little volumes will tell us. Kitty,
read something to your suffering cousins about Donnacona,--he sounds
uncommonly like an Irishman," answered the colonel, establishing himself
in an easy-chair; and Kitty picked up a small sketch of the history of
Quebec, and, opening it, fell into the trance which came upon her at the
touch of a book, and read on for some pages to herself.

"Well, upon my word," said the colonel, "I might as well be reading
about Donnacona myself, for any comfort I get."

"O Dick, I forgot. I was just looking. Now I'm really going to
commence."

"No, not yet," cried Mrs. Ellison, rising on her elbow. "Where is Mr.
Arbuton?"

"What has he to do with Donnacona, my dear?"

"Everything. You know he's stayed on our account, and I never heard of
anything so impolite, so inhospitable, as offering to read without him.
Go and call him, Richard, do."