promise you to do better hereafter. And now, as the evening wanes/ and I must leave you to the privileges of my castle for the night, will you tell me your name?"
"Certainly. It is Ranger,—Jean Robinson Ranger. And you are Mr. —?"
"Ashleigh; Ashton Ashleigh, of Ashton Place, London, England."
"May I write to your mother from my Oregon home, when I get there, and tell her all I know about you?"
"Isn't that an odd request, Miss Ranger? '*
Jean blushed to the tips of her ears.
"Nobody ever called me Miss Ranger before," she said, to hide her confusion. "My sister Mary is the Miss Ranger of our family. Yes, I did make an unusual request; but I thought of your mother pining for news of her son, and fancied she might be glad to hear about him, even from a stranger. But I see that it would hardly be proper for me to write; so please do it yourself."
"Write to her by all means. Miss Ranger, as I assure you I surely will. And now," he added, rising, "I hear your Indian maid tapping outside, and it is time to say good-night. I trust you will sleep well and have pleasant dreams."
'* Good-night, Mr. Ashleigh. I thank you ever so much for all your kindness."
