Then she took her sister’s hand. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. We LIKED each other well enough. " "Rot! Mac, what do you suppose the natives used to call her? The Dawn Pearl!" McClintock wagged his Scotch head negatively. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. Let's have a look at the kinchen that ought to have been throttled," added he, snatching the child from Wood. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale.
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