A Cry in the Wilderness

by Mary E. Waller

Before I could speak there was a decided rap on the door.

"That's Jamie," I said; "he has come for the fun."

"Come in," cried Mr. Ewart. Jamie intruded his head; his rueful face caused an outburst on my part.

"I say, Ewart, is it playing fair to a man to have all this unwonted hilarity in business hours, and keep me out?"

"No more it is n't, mon vieux. Come in and hear about Miss Farrell's seigniorial romancing."

"Go on, Marcia," said Jamie, sitting down by me.

"You 've misled me, Jamie. Did n't you, or Mrs. Macleod, tell me when I first came that this Seigniory of Lamoral was Mr. Ewart's by inheritance?"

"Well, it was in a way, was n't it, Gordon? It was a Ewart's?"

"Not in a way, even. I never thought enough about your view of the matter to speak of it. Let's have a cigar, if Miss Farrell does n't object, and I 'll tell what there is to tell—there 's so little!"

Jamie looked at me when Mr. Ewart rose to get the cigars—and looked unutterable things. I read his thought: "Now is our time to find out the truth of things heard and rumored."