of her own, but she came in collision with Mr. Armour's instructions.
So she had to assume a merely kind and comforting attitude. The wife had
not the slightest idea where she was going, and even when Mackenzie, at
Mrs. Townley's oft-repeated request, explained very briefly and
unpicturesquely, she only looked incredulous or unconcerned. Yet the
ship, its curious passengers, the dining saloon, the music, the sea, and
all, had given her suggestions of what was to come. They had expected
that at table she would be awkward and ignorant to a degree. But she had
at times eaten at the trader's table at Fort Charles, and had learned how
to use a knife and fork. She had also been a favourite with the trader's
wife, who had taught her very many civilised things. Her English, though
far from abundant, was good. Those, therefore, who were curious and rude
enough to stare at her were probably disappointed to find that she ate
like "any Christom man."

"How do you think the Armours will receive her?" said Lambert to Mrs.
Townley, of whose judgment on short acquaintance he had come to entertain
a high opinion.

Mrs. Townley had a pretty way of putting her head to one side and
speaking very piquantly. She had had it as a girl; she had not lost it
as a woman, any more than she had lost a soft little spontaneous laugh
which was one of her unusual charms--for few women can laugh audibly with
effect. She laughed very softly now, and, her sense of humour
supervening for the moment, she said:

"Really, you have asked me a conundrum. I fancy I see Mrs. Armour's face
when she gets the news,--at the breakfast-table, of course, and gives a
little shriek, and says: 'General! oh, General!' But it is all very
shocking, you know," she added, in a lower voice. "Still I think they