Our Little Canadian Cousin

ut a fortnight after our story opens. The journey from Montreal had been long and lonely, the parting from her parents ha

motherly arms closed around her, while Marjorie's rosy, laughing face and Jackie's fair, cherubic one beamed on her in greeting, her spirits began to revive. The greeting was so war

eft her to prepare for the late tea which was waiting for them all. When Dora was ready, she sat dow

t creamy, brown, with a dainty harebell pattern, and the curtains had a rich brown background with various Persian stripes, in which blue and cream and gold predominated. The bed, to her great delight, had a top-piece, and a canopy of blue-flowered chintz, and the little dressing-table was draped to match it. Just over the side of

has made friends with me already, an

atted the little bunch of

nd I think that is a better omen still. He told mother h

first time I ever was called beautiful," she said, "le

threw her arms around Dora's neck and gave her a cousinly hug. "You and

to Marjorie's blue ones. She seemed to b

ossibility, and I have never before seen a girl that I wanted for a great, great friend. But you,-ah, yes! You

es dames. She clasped the slender hand with her own plump fingers, and shook it heartily. So, in girlish romance and sudden resolution, the li

d cream, suggested a walk to his favourite candy-store and the purchase of some sticks of "pure chocolate." Marjorie proposed a picnic at Old Government House. This was approved of, but postponed for a day or two

and show Dora the house where Mrs. Ewing lived, and any other interesting places. That would do for to-day, wouldn't it? Then, day after to-morrow we could have the picnic; and for the

kfast. "She never ends things up. There is always another love

that perhaps this was part of the secret of his wif

ttle city. They went through the beautiful cathedral, and he told them how it had been built through the earnest efforts of the well-known and venerated Bishop Medley, who was afterward Metropolitan of Canada. Then th

DER

old willows on the bank just in front of her windows. These willows she had often sketched, and Dora carried away a spray of the pale gray-green leaves, in memor

ix years,-a record of which Fredericton was justly proud. This venerable dame had been addicted to the unlimited eating o

rtmental Buildings, near by, there was a small but well-arranged museum of stuffed birds and beasts, all Canadian, and most of them from New Brunswick. There we

ily all their lives, owned that an omelette like Mrs. Merrithew's she could not manage,-"No, sir, not if I was to cook day and night." There was golden honey in the comb; there was johnny-cake, hot and yellow and mel

ely observed,-"that is, if you have plenty in the house

st falling asleep while he talked. When Mrs. Merrithew saw him nodding, she rang, and the nurse-who, like Debby, was a family institution-came in and carried him off in her stalwart arms, to his little white

my very fav

rooning voice "The maple-leaf, the