be happy enough here, only I think I looked for a little--petting."

With a wisdom beyond her years, Lydia did not reply, but went to
the window and gazed absently at the tiny patch of flowers beyond
the door--the two lilac trees in full blossom, the thread of
glistening river, and behind it all, the northern wilderness. Just
below the window stood the missionary and the Indian boy talking
eagerly.

"Isn't George Mansion _splendid_!" said the child.

"You must call him Mr. Mansion; be very careful about the _Mister_,
Liddy dear," said her sister, rising and drying her eyes bravely.
"I have always heard that the Indians treat one just as they are
treated by one. Respect Mr. Mansion, treat him as you would treat a
city gentleman. Be sure he will gauge his deportment by ours. Yes,
dear, he _is_ splendid. I like him already."

"Yes, 'Liza, so do I, and he _is_ a gentleman. He looks it and acts
it. I believe he _thinks_ gentlemanly things."

Elizabeth laughed. "You dear little soul!" she said. "I know what
you mean, and I agree with you."

That laugh was all that Lydia wanted to hear in this world, and
presently the two sisters, with arms entwined, descended the
stairway and joined in the conversation between Mr. Evans and young
George Mansion.

"Mrs. Evans," said the boy, addressing her directly for the first