a most uncomfortable twitch, and actually kissing father—­a thing I have not done since I can remember.  But, then, with the exception of Will and Jamie, the Camerons are all a set of icicles, encased in a refrigerator at that.  If we were not, we should thaw out, when Katy leans on us so affectionately and looks up at us so wistfully, as if pleading for our love.  Wilford does wonders; he used to be so grave, so dignified and silent, that I never supposed he would bear having a wife meet him at the door with cooing and kisses, and climbing into his lap right before us all.  Juno says it makes her sick, while mother is dreadfully shocked; and even Will sometimes seems annoyed, gently shoving her aside and telling her he is tired.

After all, it is a query in my mind whether it is not better to be like Katy than like Sybil Grandon, about whom Juno was mean enough to tell her the first day of her arrival.  On the whole, I would rather be Katy, but better yet, would prefer remaining myself, Bell Cameron, the happy medium between the two extremes, of art perfected and nature in its primeval state, just as it existed among the Silverton hills.  From my own standpoint, I can look on and criticise, giving my journal the benefit of my criticisms and conclusions.

Very pretty, but shockingly insipid, is Juno’s verdict upon Mrs. Wilford, while mother says less, but looks a great deal more, especially when she talks about “my folks,” as she did to Mrs. General Reynolds the very first time she called.  Mother and Juno were so annoyed, while Will looked like a thundercloud, particularly when she spoke of Uncle Ephraim, saying so and so.  He was better satisfied with Katy in Europe, where he was not known, than he is here, where he sees her with other people’s eyes.  One of his weaknesses is a too great reverence for the world’s opinion, as held and expounded by our very fashionable mother, and as in a quiet kind of way she has arrayed herself against poor Katy, while Juno is more open in her acts and sayings.  I predict that it will not be many months before he comes to the conclusion that he has made a mesalliance, a thing of which no Cameron was ever guilty.

I wonder if there is any truth in the rumor that Mrs. General Reynolds once taught a district school, and if she did, how much would that detract from the merits of her son, Lieutenant Bob.  But what nonsense to be writing about him.  Let me go back to Katy, who has no more idea of etiquette than Jamie in his wheel-chair.  Still, there is something very attractive about her, and Mrs. General Reynolds took to her at once, petting her as she would a kitten, and laughing merrily at her naive speeches, as she called them—­speeches which made Will turn black in the face, they betrayed so much of rustic life and breeding.  I fancy that he has given Katy a few hints, and that she is beginning to be somewhat afraid of him, for she watches him constantly when she is talking, and she does not now