When Ian Macdonald had seen his father’s house fairly stranded on the knoll, and had made it fast there with innumerable ropes, thin and thick, as the Lilliputians secured Gulliver, he bethought him that it was high time to visit the Little Mountain, to which his father had gone on at that time, and inform him of the amazing fact.  
Before setting off, however, common propriety required that he should look in at Willow Creek in passing, not only to let them know what had occurred, if they had not already observed it, but to ask if there was any message for Mr Ravenshaw.
 
First releasing Peegwish, who now regarded him as a maniac, he embarked with him in the punt, and rowed over.
 
It was by that time approaching the afternoon. Before that—indeed before the house of Angus had gone afloat—Tony, Victor, and Petawanaquat had gone off to the Little Mountain in search of Mr Ravenshaw. Those of the family who remained behind had been so busy about their various avocations, that no one had observed the sudden removal of their neighbour’s dwelling.
 
“Cora! quick! come here!” cried Elsie, in a tone that alarmed her sister. “Am I dreaming?”
 
Cora looked out at the window, where the other stood as if petrified. “Angus Macdonald’s house on the knoll!” she screamed.
 
The scream brought her mother and Miss Trim hurriedly into the room. They stared in speechless amazement, and rubbed their eyes, but they could not rub the house of Angus Macdonald off the knoll.
 
“There comes Ian in the punt,” said Cora; “he will explain it.”
 
“He seems to be miserable enough about it if one may judge from the expression of his face,” observed Miss Trim.
 
Poor Ian was indeed profoundly miserable. The excitement of the recent event over, his mind insisted on reverting to his forlorn condition. “So near,” he thought, “and yet to miss her! Old Ravenshaw could not refuse her to me now, but of what avail is his consent without Elsie’s? Ah, Lambert! you’re a lucky fellow, and it is shameful in me to wish it were otherwise when it makes Elsie happy.”
 
Ian now tried to act philosophically, but it would not do. In the upper room he gave the ladies a brief account of his adventure. He spoke in a cold, passionless manner, without looking once at Elsie. Of course, he did not reveal the motives that had influenced him. When he had finished he rose abruptly to leave.
 
“Don’t go yet,” said Mrs Ravenshaw, “there’s a bit of carpentering that I want done, and there is not a man left at the house to do it. The last gale loosened some of the shingles on the roof, and one of them slipped down to-day, so that the place leaks.—Go, Elsie, and show him the shingle near the attic window.”
 
Ian looked at Elsie, and his resolves vanished like smoke. He went meekly to the attic.
 
“You are much changed,” said Elsie, “since you went on this trip.”
 
“Changed? Not for the worse, I hope,” said Ian.
 
“Well, scarcely for the better,” returned the girl with a smile. “See, here is the window, and the loose shingle is close to the sill. You won’t require to go out on the roof. There is father’s tool-box. If you want anything some of us will be in the room below. You may call, or come down.”
 
“Stay, Elsie,” said the youth, turning abruptly on her. “You say I am changed. Well, perhaps I am. I’ve gone through pretty severe hardships since we parted, and the injuries I received on gaining this have left their mark.”
 
He touched, as he spoke, the splendid bear-claw collar which still graced his neck.
 
“I doubt not you have suffered,” returned Elsie, in a softened tone, “but you are now well, or nearly so, and your reason is not a sufficient one to account for your being rude to all your old friends, and taking no interest in anything.”
 
“Am I, then, so rude, so callous?” rejoined Ian, drawing his hand across his brow. “Ah! Elsie, if—if—but what am I saying? Forgive me! I think that grizzly must have touched my brain when he had me under his paw. There can be no harm, however, in telling you that a wish, lightly expressed by you long ago, has been the motive power which led to the procuring of this collar. Will you accept it of me now? It is but a trifle, yet, being a bad hunter, and more used to grammars than to guns, it cost me no trifle of anxiety and trouble before I won it. I am afraid that the hope of procuring it for you had almost as much to do with cheering me on as the hope of finding Tony. Nay, don’t refuse it, Elsie, from one who has known you so long that he feels almost as if he might regard you as a sister.”
 
He took off the collar as he spoke, and, with a return of his wonted heartiness, presented it to Elsie. There was something in his manner, however, which induced her to blush and hesitate.
 
“Your kindness in searching for Tony we can never forget or repay,” she said quickly, “and—and—”
 
She paused.
 
“Well, well,” continued Ian, a little impatiently; “I did not mean to talk of Tony just now. Surely you won’t refuse a gift from so old a friend as I on the eve of my departure for Canada?”
 
“For Canada!” echoed Elsie, in surprise.
 
“Yes. I leave the instant I can get my affairs in Red River settled.”
 
“And you return?”
 
“Never!”
 
Elsie looked at the youth in undisguised astonishment. She, too, began to suspect that a claw of the collar must have touched his brain.
 
“But why hesitate?” continued Ian. “Surely you cannot refuse me so simple a favour! Even Lambert himself would approve of it in the circumstances.”
 
“Lambert!” exclaimed Elsie, with increasing amazement; “what has Lambert got to do with it?”
 
It was now Ian’s turn to look surprised.
 
“Forgive me if I have touched on a forbidden subject; but as every one in the settlement seems to know of your engagement to Lambert, I thought—”
 
“My engagement!” interrupted Elsie. “It is Cora who is engaged to Lambert.”
 
A sudden and mighty shock seemed to fall on Ian Macdonald. He slightly staggered, paled a little, then became fiery red, leaped forward, and caught the girl’s hand.
 
“Elsie! Elsie!” he exclaimed, in tones of suppressed eagerness, “will—will you accept the collar?”
 
He put it over her head as he spoke, and she blushed deeply, but did not refuse it.
 
“And, Elsie,” he added, in a deeper voice, drawing her nearer, “will you accept the hunter?”
 
“No,” answered Elsie, with such an arch smile; “but I would accept the schoolmaster if he were not going away to Canada for—”
 
She did not finish the sentence, because something shut her mouth.
 
“You’re taking a very long time to that shingle,” called Mrs Ravenshaw from below. “Have you got everything you want, Ian?”
 
“Yes,” replied Ian promptly; “I’ve got all that the world contains.”
 
“What’s that you say?”
 
“It will soon be done now, mother,” cried Elsie, breaking aw............