THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
"Fun!" exclaimed Kate.
"Fun! rather. These fellows have been up in the woods for some five or six months, and when they get to town where there is whisky and—and—that sort of thing, they just get wild. They say it is awful."
"Just horrible!" said Maimie, in a disgusted tone.
"But splendid," said Kate; "that is, if they don't hurt any one."
"Hurt anybody!" exclaimed Harry. "Oh, not at all; they are always extremely careful not to hurt any one. They are as gentle as lambs. I say, let us go down to the river and look at the rafts. De Lacy was coming up, but it is too late now for him. Besides, we might run across Maimie's man from Glengarry."
"Maimie's man from Glengarry!" exclaimed Kate. "Has she a man there, too?"
"Nonsense, Kate!" said Maimie, blushing. "He is talking about Ranald, you know. One of Aunt Murray's young men, up in Glengarry. You have heard me speak of him often."
"Oh, the boy that pulled you out of the fire," said Kate.
"Yes," cried Harry, striking an attitude, "and the boy that for love of her entered the lists, and in a fistic tournament upheld her fair name, and—"
"Oh, Harry, do have some sense!" said Maimie, impatiently. "Hush, here comes some one; Lieutenant De Lacy, I suppose."
It was the lieutenant, handsome, tall, well made, with a high-bred if somewhat dissipated face, an air of blasé indifference a little overdone, and an accent
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