One of Aunt Murray's young men, up in Glengarry.

You have heard me speak of him often." "Oh, the boy that pulled you out of the fire," said Kate.
"Yes," cried Harry, striking an attitude, "and the boy that for love of her entered the lists, and in a fistic tournament upheld her fair name, and--" "Oh, Harry, do have some sense!" said Maimie, impatiently.

"Hush, here comes some one; Lieutenant De Lacy, I suppose." It was the lieutenant, handsome, tall, well made, with a high-bred if somewhat dissipated face, an air of blase indifference a little overdone, and an accent which he had brought back with him from Oxford, and which he was anxious not to lose.

Indeed, the bare thought of the possibility of his dropping into the flat, semi-nasal of his native land filled the lieutenant with unspeakable horror.
"We were just going down to the river," said Maimie, after the introductions were over, "but I suppose it is all old to you, and you would not care to go ?" "Aw, charmed, I'm sure." (The lieutenant pronounced it "shuah.") "But it is rathaw, don't you know, not exactly clean." "He is thinking of his boots," said Harry, scornfully, looking down at the lieutenant's shining patent leathers.
"Really," said the lieutenant, mildly, "awfully dirty street, though." "But we want to see the shantymen," said Kate, frankly.
"Oh, the men! Very proper, but not so very discriminating, you know." "I love the shantymen," exclaimed Kate, enthusiastically.

"Maimie told me all about them." "By Jove! I'll join to-morrow," exclaimed the lieutenant with gentle excitement.
"They would not have you," answered Kate.