Give one to each Indian boy, the largest to Meshawa." The Indian teacher, Charles Griffin by name, looked with a whimsical face at the silver pieces laid arow upon the top rail.

"Very well, Jean," he said.

"It is good to give of thy substance.

Meshawa and the others will have a feast.

Yes, I will remember to tell them to whom they owe it.
Good-day to you both." The meadow, the solemnly playing Indians, and their gentle teacher were left behind, and the two men, passing the long college all astare with windows, the Indian school, and an expanse of grass starred with buttercups, came into Duke of Gloucester Street.