Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. He could not quite make her out; a new type. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself.
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