Chapter XXIII. A Good True Friend

It was springtime and the parks and avenues were in all the dainty splendor of their new leaves. The afternoon May sun was flooding the city with gold and silver light, and all the air was tremulous with the singing of birds. A good day it was to live if one could only live in the sunny air within sight of the green leaves and within sound of the singing birds. A day for life and love it was; at least so Kate thought as she drew up her prancing team at the St. Clair house where Harry stood waiting for her.

"Dear Kate," he cried, "how stunning you are! I love you!"

"Come, Harry, jump up! Breton is getting excited."

"Stony-hearted wretch," grumbled Harry. "Did you hear me tell you I love you?"

"Nonsense, Harry, jump in; I'll report to Lily Langford."

"Don't tell," pleaded Harry, "and do keep Breton on all fours. This isn't a circus. You terrify me."

"We have only time to make the train, hurry up!" cried Kate. "Steady, my boys."

"Some day, Kate, those 'boys' of yours will be your death or the death of some of your friends," said Harry, as he sprang in and took his place beside Kate. "That Breton ought to be shot. It really affects my heart to drive with you."

"You haven't any, Harry, you know that right well, so don't be alarmed."

"Quite true," said Harry, sentimentally, "not since that night, don't you remember, Kate, when you--"

"Now, Harry, I only remind you that I always tell my girl friends everything you say. It is this wedding that's got into your blood."

"I suppose so," murmured Harry, pensively; "wish it would get into yours. Now seriously, Kate, at your years you ought--"

"Harry," said Kate, indignantly, "I really don't need you at the station. I can meet your aunt quite well without you. Shall I set you down here, or drive you to the office?"

"Oh, not to the office, I entreat! I entreat! Anything but that! Surely I may be allowed this day! I shall be careful of your sensitive points, but I do hope this wedding of Maimie's will give you serious thoughts."

Kate was silent, giving her attention doubtless to her team. Then, with seeming irrelevance, she said: "Didn't I see Colonel Thorp yesterday in town?"

"Yes, the old heathen! I haven't forgiven him for taking off Ranald as he did."

"He didn't take off Ranald. Ranald was going off anyway."

"How do you know?" said Harry.

"I know," replied Kate, with a little color in her cheek. "He told me himself."

"Well, old Thorp was mighty glad to get him; I can tell you that. The old sinner!"

"He's just a