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lots of presents。' But she didn't。 She wasn't as prudent as Felicity King would have been。〃
〃She was a shameless hussy；〃 said Felicity； venting on the long… dead Ursula that anger she dare not visit on the Story Girl。
〃Oh； no； Felicity dear； she was just a lass of spirit。 I'd have done the same。 And when Friday night came she began to dress for the dance with a brave heart。 She was to go to The Springs with her uncle and aunt； who were coming on horseback that afternoon； and would then go on to The Springs in old Hugh's carriage； which was the only one in Carlyle then。 They were to leave in time to reach The Springs before nightfall； for the October nights were dark and the wooded roads rough for travelling。
〃When Ursula was ready she looked at herself in the glass with a good deal of satisfaction。 Yes； Felicity； she was a vain baggage； that same Ursula； but that kind didn't all die out a hundred years ago。 And she had good reason for being vain。 She wore the sea… green silk which had been brought out from England a year before and worn but onceat the Christmas ball at Government House。 A fine； stiff； rustling silk it was； and over it shone Ursula's crimson cheeks and gleaming eyes； and masses of nut brown hair。
〃As she turned from the glass she heard her father's voice below； loud and angry。 Growing very pale； she ran out into the hall。 Her father was already half way upstairs； his face red with fury。 In the hall below Ursula saw her step…mother； looking troubled and vexed。 At the door stood Malcolm Ramsay； a homely neighbour youth who had been courting Ursula in his clumsy way ever since she grew up。 Ursula had always hated him。
〃'Ursula！' shouted old Hugh； 'come here and tell this scoundrel he lies。 He says that you met Kenneth MacNair in the beechgrove last Tuesday。 Tell him he lies！ Tell him he lies！'
〃Ursula was no coward。 She looked scornfully at poor Ramsay。
〃'The creature is a spy and a tale…bearer；' she said； 'but in this he does not lie。 I DID meet Kenneth MacNair last Tuesday。'
〃'And you dare to tell me this to my face！' roared old Hugh。 'Back to your room； girl！ Back to your room and stay there！ Take off that finery。 You go to no more dances。 You shall stay in that room until I choose to let you out。 No； not a word！ I'll put you there if you don't go。 In with youay； and take your knitting with you。 Occupy yourself with that this evening instead of kicking your heels at The Springs！'
〃He snatched a roll of gray stocking from the hall table and flung it into Ursula's room。 Ursula knew she would have to follow it； or be picked up and carried in like a naughty child。 So she gave the miserable Ramsay a look that made him cringe； and swept into her room with her head in the air。 The next moment she heard the door locked behind her。 Her first proceeding was to have a cry of anger and shame and disappointment。 That did no good； and then she took to marching up and down her room。 It did not calm her to hear the rumble of the carriage out of the gate as her uncle and aunt departed。
〃'Oh； what's to be done？' she sobbed。 'Kenneth will be furious。 He will think I have failed him and he will go away hot with anger against me。 If I could only send a word of explanation I know he would not leave me。 But there seems to be no way at allthough I have heard that there's always a way when there's a will。 Oh； I shall go mad！ If the window were not so high I would jump out of it。 But to break my legs or my neck would not mend the matter。'
〃The afternoon passed on。 At sunset Ursula heard hoof…beats and ran to the window。 Andrew Kinnear of The Springs was tying his horse at the door。 He was a dashing young fellow； and a political crony of old Hugh。 No doubt he would be at the dance that night。 Oh； if she could get speech for but a moment with him！
〃When he had gone into the house； Ursula； turning impatiently from the window； tripped and almost fell over the big ball of homespun yarn her father had flung on the floor。 For a moment she gazed at it resentfullythen； with a gay little laugh； she pounced on it。 The next moment she was at her table； writing a brief note to Kenneth MacNair。 When it was written； Ursula unwound the gray ball to a considerable depth； pinned the note on it； and rewound the yarn over it。 A gray ball； the color of the twilight； might escape observation； where a white missive fluttering down from an upper window would surely be seen by someone。 Then she softly opened her window and waited。
〃It was dusk when Andrew went away。 Fortunately old Hugh did not come to the door with him。 As Andrew untied his horse Ursula threw the ball with such good aim that it struck him； as she had meant it to do； squarely on the head。 Andrew looked up at her window。 She leaned out； put her finger warningly on her lips； pointed to the ball； and nodded。 Andrew； looking somewhat puzzled； picked up the ball； sprang to his saddle； and galloped off。
〃So far； well； thought Ursula。 But would Andrew understand？ Would he have wit enough to think of exploring the big； knobby ball for its delicate secret？ And would he be at the dance after all？
〃The evening dragged by。 Time had never seemed so long to Ursula。 She could not rest or sleep。 It was midnight before she heard the patter of a handful of gravel on her window…panes。 In a trice she was leaning out。 Below in the darkness stood Kenneth MacNair。
〃'Oh； Kenneth； did you get my letter？ And is it safe for you to be here？'
〃'Safe enough。 Your father is in bed。 I've waited two hours down the road for his light to go out； and an extra half…hour to put him to sleep。 The horses are there。 Slip down and out； Ursula。 We'll make Charlottetown by dawn yet。'
〃'That's easier said than done； lad。 I'm locked in。 But do you go out behind the new barn and bring the ladder you will find there。'
〃Five minutes later； Miss Ursula； hooded and cloaked； scrambled soundlessly down the ladder； and in five more minutes she and Kenneth were riding along the road。
〃'There's a stiff gallop before us； Ursula；' said Kenneth。
〃'I would ride to the world's end with you； Kenneth MacNair；' said Ursula。 Oh； of course she shouldn't have said anything of the sort； Felicity。 But you see people had no etiquette departments in those days。 And when the red sunlight of a fair October dawn was shining over the gray sea The Fair Lady sailed out of Charlottetown harbour。 On her deck stood Kenneth and Ursula MacNair； and in her hand； as a most precious treasure； the bride carried a ball of gray homespun yarn。〃
〃Well；〃 said Dan； yawning； 〃I like that kind of a story。 Nobody goes and dies in it； that's one good thing。〃
〃Did old Hugh forgive Ursula？〃 I asked。
〃The story stopped there in the brown book；〃 said the Story Girl； 〃but the Awkward Man says he did； after awhile。〃
〃It must be rather romantic to be run away with；〃 remarked Cecily； wistfully。
〃Don't you get such silly notions in your head； Cecily King；〃 said Felicity； severely。
CHAPTER III
THE CHRISTMAS HARP
Great was the excitement in the houses of King as Christmas drew nigh。 The air was simply charged with secrets。 Everybody was very penurious for weeks beforehand and hoards were counted scrutinizingly every day。 Mysterious pieces of handiwork were smuggled in and out of sight； and whispered consultations were held； about which nobody thought of being jealous； as might have happened at any other time。 Felicity was in her element； for she and her mother were deep in preparations for the day。 Cecily and the Story Girl were excluded from these doings with indifference on Aunt Janet's part and what seemed ostentatious complacency on Felicity's。 Cecily took this to heart and complained to me about it。
〃I'm one of this family just as much as Felicity is；〃 she said； with as much indignation as Cecily could feel； 〃and I don't think she need shut me out of everything。 When I wanted to stone the raisins for the mince…meat she said； no； she would do it herself； because Christmas mince…meat was very particularas if I couldn't stone raisins right！ The airs Felicity puts on about her cooking just make me sick；〃 concluded Cecily wrathfully。
〃It's a pity she doesn't make a mistake in cooking once in a while herself；〃 I said。 〃Then maybe she wouldn't think she knew so much more than other people。〃
All parcels that came in the mail from distant friends were taken charge of by Aunts Janet and Olivia； not to be opened until the great day of the feast itself。 How slowly the last week passed！ But even watched pots will boil in the fulness of time； and finally Christmas day came； gray and dour and frost…bitten without； but full of revelry and rose…red mirth within。 Uncle Roger and Aunt Olivia and the Story Girl came over early for the day； and Peter came too； with his shining； morning face； to be hailed with joy； for we had been afraid that Peter would not be able to spend Christmas with us。 His mother had wanted him home with her。
〃Of course I ought to go；〃 Peter had told me mournfully； 〃but we won't have turkey for dinner； because ma can't afford it。 And ma always cries on holidays because she says they make her think of father。 O