Just for to-night to the Old Country."

He stopped and laughed.

"It's nine years since I've seen it, but I can't get those lines out of
my head. Perhaps it's because of the girl who sang them. Somehow, I felt
sorry for her. She had remarkably fine eyes."

"Sea-blue," suggested his companion. "I don't grasp the connection
between the last two remarks."

"Neither do I," admitted Vane. "I suppose there isn't one. But they
weren't sea-blue; unless you mean the depth of indigo when you are out of
soundings. They're Irish eyes."

"You're not Irish. There's not a trace of the Celt in you, except,
perhaps, your habit of getting indignant with the people who don't share
your views."

"No, sir! By birth, I'm North Country--England, I mean. Over there we're
descendants of the Saxons, Scandinavians, Danes--Teutonic stock at
bottom, anyhow; and we've inherited their unromantic virtues. We're
solid, and cautious, respectable before everything, and smart at getting
hold of anything worth having. As a matter of fact, you Ontario Scotsmen
are mighty like us."

"You certainly came out well ahead of those city men who put up the
money," agreed Carroll. "I guess it's in the blood; though I fancied once
or twice that they would take the mine from you."