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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The Girl from Glengarry," Ralph Connor artfully weaves a poignant narrative set in the rugged Scottish Highlands, exploring themes of love, sacrifice, and the quest for identity. The story unfolds through vivid descriptions characteristic of late 19th-century literature, capturing the beauty and grit of rural life. Connor's background as a minister imbues the text with moral undertones, while his accessible prose invites readers into the lives of his relatable, earnest characters, reflecting the social dynamics and religious convictions of the time. Ralph Connor, the pseudonym of Canadian author Charles William Gordon, is known for his deep-rooted connections to both the Canadian landscape and Scottish heritage. His upbringing in the Church and passion for storytelling significantly influenced his work, as he sought to depict the struggles and triumphs of humanity in a rapidly changing world. Connor's writings often draw from his own experiences, lending authenticity to the themes he explores, particularly the tension between tradition and modernity. This compelling tale is a must-read for those interested in historical fiction and themes of resilience. Connor's vivid storytelling and rich character development resonate through the ages, making "The Girl from Glengarry" an essential addition to any literary collection. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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The Girl from Glengarry
Table of Contents
Introduction
At its heart, The Girl from Glengarry contemplates how a young person’s conscience, loyalties, and hopes are forged where intimate community ties meet the disruptive energies of change, tracing the quiet heroism that arises when tradition, belief, and personal desire must find a way to coexist without surrendering the dignity and mutual responsibility that hold a life—and a neighborhood—together.
Written by Ralph Connor, the widely read Canadian novelist whose pen name masked the identity of Charles William Gordon, The Girl from Glengarry belongs to the popular early twentieth-century stream of regional and moral fiction that brought frontier and small-community life to a broad audience. The book draws on Connor’s established world of Scottish-Canadian settlements and church-centered social life, presenting a narrative that is both accessible and earnest. In publication terms, it aligns with the era when Connor’s works traveled well beyond Canada, offering international readers a recognizable blend of romance, adventure, and ethical reflection grounded in a distinctly Canadian milieu.
Readers encounter a story that privileges interior growth and public responsibility as much as courtship or conflict, with scenes colored by communal rhythms—work, worship, festivity, and crisis—rendered in clear, vigorous prose. Without leaning on ornament, Connor’s style channels momentum and moral clarity, favoring brisk episodes and vivid contrasts of temperament. The experience is less a puzzle than a journey of feeling and judgment: the narrative invites identification with characters under pressure yet stops short of prescriptive certainty, allowing the reader to weigh motives, witness consequences, and appreciate the interplay of affection, duty, and the stubborn complexities of local custom.
Among the book’s abiding themes are the formation of character, the social power of faith, and the pull between inherited norms and emerging possibilities. Connor’s fiction is known for portraying community as both shelter and crucible—a place where kindness, courage, and failings are made visible. Love is framed not merely as romance but as a test of fidelity to one’s deepest commitments. Questions of leadership, service, and accountability recur, often in situations where public reputation and private conscience meet. Through this lens, the narrative examines how people learn to act justly without forfeiting compassion, and how convictions are refined through trial.
The novel’s cultural texture reflects the Scottish-Canadian heritage associated with the Glengarry name, where memory, music, and story keep communal identity alive alongside the institutional influence of church and school. Connor writes within a period marked by migration, settlement, and uneven modernization, and the book carries that atmosphere: the tension between established hierarchies and newer social energies, the insistence that moral life is lived in common, and the insistently practical cast of frontier ethics. This context matters less as a backdrop than as an ethical environment, shaping how characters speak, decide, and imagine their obligations to neighbors near and far.
For today’s readers, The Girl from Glengarry offers more than period color; it poses durable questions about belonging, responsibility, and the courage to change. Its attention to mutual care and moral agency resonates amid contemporary debates about community cohesion and personal autonomy. Those interested in Canadian literature will find an instructive snapshot of a readership shaped by popular regional narratives, while readers of character-driven fiction may value the book’s insistence that personal growth has social consequences. The novel’s steady seriousness—tempered by warmth and an eye for everyday heroism—encourages reflection on how values are lived, not merely professed.
Approached on its own terms, the book rewards patience with a narrative that balances feeling and principle, inviting readers to inhabit a world where integrity is tested in ordinary decisions and where affection becomes a discipline as much as a delight. Expect a clear moral throughline, moments of heightened emotion, and an emphasis on earned reconciliations rather than easy victories. As an introduction to Connor’s broader body of work, it illustrates why his stories traveled widely: they marry accessible storytelling to ethical inquiry, asking what it means to stand firm, to forgive, and to build a life that honors both tradition and hope.
Synopsis
The Girl from Glengarry opens in a rural Scottish-Canadian settlement where hard winters, close-knit families, and the rhythms of the timber trade shape daily life. The young woman at its center grows up amid Gaelic traditions and Presbyterian discipline, learning resilience, thrift, and duty. Her world includes the church, the shanties, and the lively gatherings that hold the community together. From the outset, she is marked by resourcefulness and an instinct to help. The narrative establishes the setting’s moral framework and the bonds between settlers, preparing the ground for choices she will face when broader horizons and new responsibilities draw her beyond the county.
A change in circumstance, tied to education and opportunity, brings the heroine to the city along the Ottawa, where wealth and want meet at close quarters. She enters circles connected to the lumber business, encountering both sympathy and skepticism toward her country upbringing. Two contrasting influences emerge: a principled figure rooted in the forests and mills, and a polished urban guide fluent in society’s customs. The city’s churches, charitable societies, and business offices introduce different measures of success. The transition tests her confidence, inviting comparisons between the simplicity of home and the complexities of urban life, without severing her ties to Glengarry.
Life in the city broadens her view. She attends musicales and teas, but also visits missions and hospitals, observing how hardship shadows progress. Her talents find outlets in organization and gentle leadership, drawing notice from those who value integrity over display. The narrative shows how she navigates expectations placed upon young women, balancing decorum with initiative. She becomes a bridge between worlds, conveying the practical sense of the townships to parlors where decisions are made. Her letters and visits home sustain her, while reports from the camps remind her that the fortunes of remote communities depend on choices made far from the river’s banks.
The story turns toward the timber camps and the perilous work of felling and driving logs through snow and spring flood. Scenes from the shanties highlight camaraderie, rough humor, and the dangers men accept as routine. When illness and accident strike, the city’s charitable networks and church organizations mobilize. The heroine aids in assembling supplies and volunteers, linking the urban response to the needs of families upriver. This practical service places her alongside foremen, clerks, and ministers, each with a stake in the season’s outcome. In serving others, she gains clearer insight into the costs underpinning the prosperity she sees in town.
A season of spiritual reflection deepens her perspective. Sermons on duty and sacrifice intersect with everyday decisions about money, promises, and reputation. The book portrays faith not as ornament but as a framework for action, shaping how characters treat rivals, honor contracts, and care for the vulnerable. The heroine’s influence is felt in quiet conversations where a wavering friend or relative considers either compromise or courage. Without dwelling on doctrine, the narrative shows how belief and character intertwine. This inward turning does not remove conflict; rather, it equips several figures to face coming tests with steadier hands and a clearer sense of what is right.
Business tensions sharpen as rival firms maneuver for access to timber limits, credit, and transportation. Whispers of sharp practice circulate, threatening livelihoods and reputations. The heroine, now trusted by people on both sides of the river, encounters situations where truth-telling could cost friendships, yet silence would harm the just. Her counsel favors transparency and fair dealing. Meanwhile, in the camps, leadership under pressure reveals who can be relied upon when weather, water, and time conspire. The narrative alternates between office and riverbank, aligning personal choices with larger economic forces that decide whether communities will be secure through the next winter.
The spring drive becomes a crucible. High water and shifting currents raise the stakes for crews working to keep timber moving. Rumors of a dangerous jam reach the city, sending families and employers into anxious watchfulness. The heroine’s role turns to coordination and comfort, as she supports those waiting for news and keeps aid ready for whatever follows. A daring effort on the river, involving reckoning with risk and responsibility, tests reputations formed over earlier chapters. Without revealing outcomes, this episode marks a turning point for several relationships, clarifying the difference between boldness and bravado, and between loyalty to friends and fidelity to principle.
In the aftermath, recognition and reassessment ripple through both city and county. People who stood firm under strain acquire new influence; others confront the costs of earlier decisions. The heroine’s path comes into sharper focus, shaped by her desire to link practical service with enduring values. Reconciliations hint at the possibility of cooperation across class and region, while unresolved questions keep easy conclusions at bay. Hints of romance are handled with restraint, emphasizing compatibility of character more than spectacle. The narrative preserves forward momentum without closing every door, suggesting how past trials may inform future work and companionship.
The book’s closing movement draws together its themes: courage grounded in faith, the dignity of labor, and the necessity of honest dealing in a swiftly changing economy. The heroine embodies a synthesis of Glengarry’s sturdy traditions and the city’s wider opportunities, showing how rootedness can enable responsible engagement with modern life. By tracing her journey from home to urban society and back again in service, the story argues for character as the true measure of success. Without dwelling on triumph or tragedy, it leaves readers with a sense of communities strengthened when conscience guides action and when bridges are built instead of boundaries.
Historical Context
Ralph Connor situates The Girl from Glengarry in the Scottish-Canadian communities of Glengarry County, eastern Ontario, and the broader Ottawa Valley during the late nineteenth century, roughly the 1860s through the 1890s. This is a world shaped by the seasonal rhythms of the timber frontier, Presbyterian congregational life, and emerging rail and river networks linking farm clearings to mills at the Chaudière Falls. Post-Confederation Ontario (after 1867) frames the setting with growing institutions, municipal governance, and expanding markets. The novel’s villages, shanties, and small towns mirror a society negotiating between Gaelic traditions and a modernizing economy, where church courts, schoolhouses, and lumber camps codify authority, and where kin, clan memory, and commerce intersect along the St. Lawrence–Ottawa corridor.
Glengarry’s Scottish identity grew from Loyalist and Highland migrations that began in 1784, when disbanded Royalist regiments settled along the St. Lawrence in Stormont, Dundas, and Glengarry. Subsequent Highland arrivals, including veterans and families associated with the Glengarry Fencibles, came in the 1790s–1810s under leaders such as Bishop Alexander Macdonell, founding St. Raphael’s and other parishes. The community produced notable militias like the Glengarry Light Infantry Fencibles during the War of 1812. This heritage—Gaelic speech, Presbyterian and Catholic parishes, and kin-based honor—permeates the book’s social world, informing its depictions of discipline, piety, and communal solidarity among families who trace names and customs back to Inverness-shire and the Isles.
The Ottawa Valley timber trade dominated regional life from the early 1800s through the 1890s. Philemon Wright launched the first great timber raft down the Ottawa in 1806; square timber and later sawn lumber fed British and American markets. Shanty culture formed around winter camps and spring log drives, aided by innovations like Ruggles Wright’s timber slide at the Chaudière (1829). Timber barons such as J. R. Booth and E. B. Eddy industrialized milling near the falls. Periodic violence, including the Shiners’ War (c. 1835–1837) in Bytown, marked the rough economy. The novel’s camp hierarchies, log-driving perils, and honor-bound fights mirror this milieu, using shanty life to test characters’ courage, loyalty, and moral choices.
Infrastructure transformed the valley. The Rideau Canal (1826–1832), built under Lt.-Col. John By, created Bytown, renamed Ottawa in 1855 and chosen Canada’s capital in 1857. Railways and river improvements integrated the hinterland; mills at the Chaudière linked frontier labor to urban capital. Catastrophes punctuated growth: on 26 April 1900, the Ottawa–Hull fire devastated Lebreton Flats and Hull’s mill district, revealing the timber economy’s vulnerabilities. While Connor’s narrative focuses earlier, the book’s world anticipates such risks—sawmill dependence, combustible stockpiles, and precarious livelihoods—and reflects how communities navigated opportunities and hazards as local boys and girls encountered the pull of Ottawa’s markets and institutions.
The temperance movement reshaped Canadian social life. The Dunkin Act (1864) and Scott Act (1878) enabled local prohibition; the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union formed in Canada in 1874 under leaders like Letitia Youmans; the Dominion Alliance (1875) coordinated lobbying; and a national plebiscite in 1898 returned a slim majority for prohibition, which the federal government declined to implement. Ontario ultimately passed the Ontario Temperance Act in 1916. Connor, a Presbyterian minister influenced by the Social Gospel, threads these debates through the novel’s confrontations with whiskey in camps and villages. The book dramatizes the moral and material costs of liquor traffic, endorsing collective action—church courts, temperance societies, and local by-laws—to protect laborers and families.
Nation-building accelerated westward after completion of the Canadian Pacific Railway (Last Spike at Craigellachie, British Columbia, 7 November 1885) and mass immigration during 1896–1914 under Minister Clifford Sifton. Winnipeg’s population rose from 7,985 (1881) to 42,340 (1901), becoming a prairie entrepôt. Charles W. Gordon (Ralph Connor) ministered in Winnipeg from the mid-1890s, bringing first-hand knowledge of missions among homesteaders and laborers. Although the narrative is rooted in Glengarry, it mirrors the east-to-west pipeline of talent, capital, and faith institutions. Characters’ aspirations, out-migration, and the valorization of service connect to the railway-enabled opening of the West, situating local virtue within a national project of settlement, evangelization, and modernization.
Industrial capitalism reorganized work and community in Ontario. The Baldwin Act (1849) expanded municipal self-government; Egerton Ryerson’s school reforms (Common School Act, 1846; Ontario School Act, 1871) fostered literate, disciplined citizens; and policing combined local constables with federal Dominion Police (1868). In mills and timber yards, long hours and seasonal insecurity bred tension; by the 1880s the Knights of Labor had Canadian assemblies pressing for shorter hours and safer conditions in Ottawa and the Valley. Connor’s world portrays paternal mill owners, precarious shantymen, and church-led mutual aid as responses to inequality. The novel’s emphasis on schooling, Sabbath-keeping, and collective discipline reflects these efforts to civilize a volatile labor frontier without extinguishing its vigor.
The book functions as a social critique by exposing how frontier prosperity was purchased at human cost: intemperance, workplace danger, and the moral abandonment of transient laborers. By contrasting timber magnates’ security with shantymen’s precarity, it interrogates class divides and the limits of laissez-faire. Through kirk sessions, temperance rallies, and women’s organizational energy, it endorses communal regulation against predatory liquor interests and casual violence. Its Glengarry setting spotlights ethnic cohesion while criticizing sectarian rancor. In advocating education, lawful recreation, and civic duty, the narrative aligns with reform currents that sought to tame the market with moral law, urging a polity that protects the vulnerable and rewards disciplined industry.
The Girl from Glengarry
CHAPTER I
The Ottawa, tawny and turbulent with spring freshets, rolled majestic, full bank to bank, and flooding the flats, marooning the great elms which stood guard over a little old solidly built log cabin. From across the river upon a curving line of hills the sunset fell in a glow of purple and gold. High upon a cut bank, jutting over the backwater of the overflow, a girl stood outlined against the purple of the hills, slender, lithe, exquisitely formed with soft girlish curves, yet firmly erect upon shapely legs, whose beautiful contours the playful wind clearly revealed. The sunlight turned the little curls of bobbed hair into a tangle of red gold, a striking foil to the transparent clarity of her skin. The face beautifully modelled into lines of strength and tenderness was gloriously lit up by eyes that seemed to catch the flying color from the bunch of blue wood violets at her breast, the same blue, with darker iris rims. A picture of rare loveliness she stood, strength, high courage in her pose, and in her eyes the lure and witchery that is supposed to make men mad.
"Good boy, Paddy! Stick to it old chap." The voice rang out clear and vibrant.
The girl was encouraging a yearling Irish setter pup in a struggle to land a branch of a tree from the river. Cheered on by his mistress the pup pulled and hauled, growling savagely the while, and finally landed the booty.
"Good old boy! Not afraid of water, eh? Fine! Time for home Paddy. Come along."
Paddy frisked and gambolled in a state of high triumph, and ended by leaping up at the girl with his paws on her frock.
"Down Paddy, you beast!" she cried, bringing her leash sharply down upon his nose. The answering howl brought swift penitence.
"Oh Paddy darling! So sorry!" Her arms went round Paddy now wriggling ecstatically his forgiveness. "You have made a mess of me, Paddy, but no matter. Come along! Away you go. I'll race you to the fence."
Like the wind Paddy was away, and like the wind his mistress was after him arriving at the fence in a dead heat.
The fence was an old-fashioned structure of cedar logs built end to end with a cap rail on top. A quick scramble and the girl was over, leaving the puppy behind.
"Ha ha! Fooled you there, Paddy. Come on! Find your own way out. Oh, you great baby!" she cried, taunting him as he began to whine. "Come along till you find a hole," she said setting off up the muddy road, while Paddy whimpering kept leaping at the fence in vain efforts to make exit from the field.
"Oh come on baby!" cried the girl, running along the road. "There are plenty of holes. Don't be a whining quitter." The square little chin carried high was sufficient indication that its owner was no quitter. At length a hole was found and the pup came dashing after his mistress.
Down the road meeting them came a flock of sheep in charge of a supernaturally wise and patient collie[2]. Paddy dashed forward with a joyous bark.
"Paddy! heel sir!" The voice of the girl carried quite unmistakable authority.
Paddy paused, looked back at his mistress and again at the sheep now huddling and backing, held together only by the steady, resolute shepherding of the collie.
Paddy came back slowly and reluctantly.
"Bad dog! 'ware sheep!" said the girl. Catching him by the collar she began cuffing his ears, repeating with emphasis at each cuff, "No, No! 'ware sheep!"
Drawing him close to the fence she held the pup on the leash but loosely, controlling him by word only.
Shivering with excitement, the pup stood trembling as the sheep, with ears pricked forward, sidled past slowly and carefully at first, then at last with a rush. That rush proved altogether too alluring for Paddy's self-control. With a quick spring he dashed for the sheep. The leash was long in the line. Two long jumps the girl allowed him, but at the third and in mid air, with a sharp "No no! 'ware sheep," the girl threw her weight on the line. With a yelp the pup came back in a complete somersault, lay sprawling, then crawled to his mistress's feet.
"Bad dog!" she said sternly, "'ware sheep!" Again she cuffed his ears while he lay belly flat to the ground.
"Ay! Miss Sylvia. It may save him a hanging some day."
"Yes indeed. Besides he must learn obedience. I won't have a dog that doesn't obey me." Two red spots burned in her cheeks.
"It's a guid rule for dowgs, aye an' for men as weel, and indeed it might be for lassies as weel. Wha kens?"
The stern young face softened; the girl smiled a little strained smile.
"You have me there, Mr. Brodie, I guess. But all the same Paddy must obey me," she said looking down at the pup, who was still grovelling abjectly at her feet. "Look at your Heather Bell there, heeding us not a bit, but strictly attending to her duty."
"Aye, she's a canny lassie, but like all lassies she has her times," said Mr. Brodie, gravely shaking his head, "she needs patience."
"Lassies patience? What about the laddies?"
"Aye, they require patience as well, but with a difference. They are slower to learn but surer to bide."
"Surer to bide? You mean they are more dependable?"
"Na na--hardly that--na na not that exactly. Dependable? Na na the lassies are dependable. Yon collie now ye can trust till the deith. But in her there is a wee something incomprehensible. She has her moods and requires patience and understanding."
"Are we all like that? All girls?"
"Ye are as God made ye. An' na mere man can get tae the secret hairt o' ye. Na na, ye need patience and understanding.[1q]"
"How did you train Heather Bell then? Didn't you have to punish her at times?"
"Aye, I did and sorely, till I maist ruined her entirely. I cam' near to breakin' her, the puir lassie. And a broken dowg is a useless dowg for the sheep."
"And how then did you train her?"
"I made her prood to serve me."
"And now she never fails to obey?"
"Hoots lassie! She has her moods, but less and less."
"And when in her moods?"
"I jist leave her be. I feed her a' the dainty bits, but I give her neither word nor look till she's like tae grieve the very hairt oot o' her."
"Oh Mr. Brodie! But what a terrible thing to do."
"Aye it is. And it's hardest on masel', but we both learn oor lesson by it."
"Did I jerk Paddy too hard?"
"It's no the jerk."
"What then?"
"It's the way ye dae it. It's the same wi' all admeenistration o' justice, human and divine."
"You are too deep for me, Mr. Brodie. I'm only an ignorant girl."
"No that ignorant, lassie, not you. But ye'll heed an auld man that has learnt his lesson by long and sair experience. Will ye forgive me? Justice is a terrible thing, a cold and terrible thing without passion--but maist terrible when administered by love. That's where our law makers and oor law administrators fail us. They rage at criminals. There is nae rage in justice, human or divine. It is inevitable as the march o' the seasons, but like the seasons it is administered by love."
"Poor Paddy," said the girl, stooping to pat the pup still crouching at her feet.
"Na na!" interrupted Mr. Brodie quickly. "Now ye've spoiled it 'a, let him dree his weird."
"What do you mean?"
"Let him suffer oot his punishment. He was wrong. But he would learn better if his punishment came with terrible coldness."
"Oh dear! I shall have to send him to you Mr. Brodie," said the girl in a voice of despair.
"Na na lassie. He's your dowg and your responsibility. An' dootless he'll teach ye as muckle as ye teach him. Guid nicht. It's a lang lang task, but it's worth while." He took off his hat, and with the bow of a great gentleman went his way.
The shadows were lengthening over the fields. The light was still clear in the west, but along the fences it had faded into a soft purple. The girl unsnapped the leash from her pup.
"Paddy dear," she said putting her arms suddenly round his neck, "I'm afraid I shall never be able to train you. It is indeed a terrible business. I love you too much--and yet--and yet--well not just now Paddy darlin'. We will just skip home."
The pup released from her embrace dashed madly about her, now grovelling at her feet, then leaping upon her in the ecstasy of his return to favor.
"Now for a race, Paddy," cried the girl and together they dashed up the road to meet the main Montreal-Ottawa highway, along which the flaming lights of racing motors could be seen.
"Now Paddy, we take no chances here boy. Come back Paddy!"
At that instant from a fence corner under Paddy's very nose jumped a tall Leghorn rooster, and dashed for the highway. The challenge was too direct to be borne. Away went Paddy hot foot on the Leghorn's trail, pointing fair across the highway.
"Paddy come back!" screamed the girl as she saw a north bound car bearing down upon the fleeing rooster. But both bird and dog unconscious of anything but escape and pursuit dashed out upon the road fair in the motor's track with Sylvia in frantic chase.
There was a wild cry, a screeching of brakes as the car came to a halt. A south bound car at high speed, however, suddenly appeared from nowhere. Again there was a wild cry, a screeching of brakes and an agonized yelp. The south bound car swervingly, swiftly went crashing through the paling on to a level sward and came to rest.
From this car a young man hurled himself headlong, scrambled to his feet and rushed on to the road toward the girl sitting there in the dust, dazed and shaken.
"Oh, my God! are you hurt?" cried the young man, lifting her bodily out of the dust and setting her on the grass.
"Oh no, no!" she cried brokenly. "My dog! my puppy!"
"Dog," said the boy. "Thank the good Lord, I thought I had got you!"
The girl staggered to her feet, gazed about her, then ran back up the road where in the dust lay a squirming, shuddering mass that once was her Paddy. Down in the bloody dust she flung herself with a moaning cry.
"Oh Paddy! Darling Paddy. Has he killed you? Oh my dear, my dear!"
The wounded pup lifted its head and turned to lick the girl's hand, whining the while, but not with pain.
"Let me look at him," said the young man. "I know about dogs."
He ran his hands over the limbs, up and down the spine and lifted the legs.
"Say, let me get him to a drug store," he said. He ran to his car and returned with a rug, beautiful and costly. Carefully he rolled the pup in the rug, carried him to the car, and laid him gently on the back seat.
"Get in!" he ordered.
Dazed and shattered in nerve she obeyed. In a few minutes he drew up at the red lamp of a drug store. Into the store he bore the moaning whimpering dog, and carried him straight through to the back shop.
"Hey, what's the game?" said the clerk.
"Here, get me chloroform, and keep the girl out. Get a move on!"
He had a way of getting his orders obeyed.
In a few minutes he called the clerk into the back room.
"Get something for the young lady--something to tone her up, two glasses. And say! Don't fuss--and get a move on. Your chief knows me. Bring the stuff here."
The clerk carried out his orders with swift efficiency.
The young man came out into the front shop carrying two glasses.
"Drink this," he ordered. "We both need it."
Without hesitation the girl obeyed, then turned her blue eyes upon him.
"Paddy?" she whispered.
"No more pain for Paddy," said the young man taking her hand in both of his.
