“And when will you be going to the sugaring-off, Mistress Murray?” went on Maimie, mimicking Ranald so cleverly that in spite of herself Mrs. Murray smiled.
It was his mother's smile that perfected Hughie's fury. Without a word of threat or warning, he seized a dipper of water and threw it over Maimie, soaking her pretty ribbons and collar, and was promptly sent upstairs to repent.
“Poor Hughie!” said his mother, after he had disappeared; “Ranald is his hero, and he cannot bear any criticism of him.”
“He doesn't look much of a hero, auntie,” said Maimie, drying her face and curls.
“Very few heroes do,” said her aunt, quietly. “Ranald has noble qualities, but he has had very few advantages.”
Then Mrs. Murray told her niece how Ranald had put himself between her and the pursuing wolves. Maimie's blue eyes were wide with horror.
“But, auntie,” she cried, “why in the world do you go to such places?”
“What places, Maimie?” said the minister, who had come into the room.
“Why, those awful places where the wolves are.”
“Indeed, you may ask why,” said the minister, gravely. He had heard the story from his wife the night before. “But it would need a man to be on guard day and night to keep your aunt from 'those places.'”