When Mrs. Mason received the letter from Miss Sommerton, stating the
time the young woman intended to pay her visit to the Shawenegan, she
gave the letter to her husband, and reminded him of the necessity of
keeping the canoe for that particular date. As the particular date was
some weeks off, and as Ed. Mason was a man who never crossed a stream
until he came to it, he said, "All right," put the letter in his inside
pocket, and the next time he thought of it was on the fine autumn
afternoon--Monday afternoon--when he saw Mrs. Mason drive up to the
door of his lumber-woods residence with Miss Eva Sommerton in the buggy
beside her. The young lady wondered, as Mr. Mason helped her out, if
that genial gentleman, whom she regarded as the most fortunate of men,
had in reality some secret, gnawing sorrow the world knew not of.

"Why, Ed., you look ill," exclaimed Mrs. Mason; "is there anything the
matter?"

"Oh, it is nothing--at least, not of much consequence. A little business
worry, that's all."

"Has there been any trouble?"

"Oh no--at the least, not _yet_."

"Trouble about the men, is it?"

"No, not about the men," said the unfortunate gentleman, with a somewhat
unnecessary emphasis on the last word.

"Oh, Mr. Mason, I am afraid I have come at a wrong time. If so, don't