finality, "What! two twenty-foot floors and two thirty-foot mows! It
cawn't be did." Such was, therefore, the magnitude of the undertaking,
and such the far-famed hospitality of the McLeods, that no man within
the range of the family acquaintance who was not sick, or away from
home, or prevented by some special act of Providence, failed to appear
at the raising that day.

It was still the early afternoon, but most of the men invited were
already there when the mill people drove up in the family democrat. The
varied shouts of welcome that greeted them proclaimed their popularity.

"Hello, Barney! Good-day, Mrs. Boyle," said Mr. McLeod, who stood at the
gate receiving his guests.

"Ye've brought the baby, I see, Charley, me boy," shouted Tom Magee, a
big, good-natured son of Erin, the richness of whose brogue twenty years
of life in Canada had failed to impoverish.

"We could hardly leave the baby at home to-day," replied the miller, as
with tender care he handed the green bag containing his precious violin
to his wife.

"No, indeed, Mr. Boyle," replied Mr. McLeod. "The girls yonder would
hardly forgive us if Charley Boyle's fiddle were not to the fore. You'll
find some oats in the granary, Barney. Come along, Mrs. Boyle. The wife
will be glad of your help to keep those wild colts in order yonder, eh,
Margaret, lassie?"

"Indeed, it is not Margaret Robertson that will be needing to be kept in
order," replied Mrs. Boyle.