“But Harry saw him; and, surely, he could not have changed so much but that he would know him now if he saw him.”
“And do you know no one of the name?” asked Graeme.
“I have heard of several Ruthvens in Canada West. And the house of Elphinstone and Gilchrist have a Western agent of that name. Do you know anything about him, Harry? Who knows but he may be Allan Ruthven of the ‘Steadfast.’”
“No, I thought he might be, and made inquiries,” said Harry. “But that Ruthven seems quite an old fogey. He has been in the employment of that firm ever since the flood,—at least, a long time. Do you mind Allan Ruthven, Menie?”
“Mind him!” That she did. Menie was very quiet to-night, saying little, but listening happily as she lay on the sofa, with her head on Graeme’s knee.
“Allan was the first one I heard say our Menie was a beauty,” said Norman. “Menie, do you mind?”
Menie laughed. “Yes, I mind.”
“But I think Rosie was his pet. Graeme, don’t you mind how he used to walk up and down the deck, with Rosie in his arms?”
“But that was to rest Graeme,” said Harry. “Miss Rosie was a small tyrant in those days.”
Rosie shook her head at him.