and a home. He frankly said that he was prepared,
young as he was, to supply both for Ruth.

But their youth, in the first place, was an objection in the very
sensible mind of Ruth. It was true, too, that a second objection was the
fact that she wanted to live her own life and establish herself in the
great career she had got into almost by chance.

And then too Tom himself, since his return from France, had shown little
determination to settle himself at work. Being the son of a wealthy
merchant and possessing, now that he was of age, a fortune in his own
right inherited from his mother's estate, Tom Cameron, it seemed to Ruth,
was just playing with life.

Like many another young fellow so recently from the battlefield, it
seemed as if he could not settle to anything. And his sister encouraged
him in this attitude. Ruth secretly blamed Helen for this. And therefore
her own attitude to Tom had grown more stern.

It was now June--the June following the armistice--the loveliest and most
accepted time for a bridal. The ceremony of Jennie Stone's wedding to
Major Henri Marchand had passed off, as we have seen, very smoothly. Even
Tom, as best man, had found the ring at the right moment, and nobody had
stepped on Jennie's train.

But this accident at the breakfast table--and an accident that might have
resulted fatally for Ruth Fielding--threatened to cause not only
excitement but to sober the whole party.

In a moment, however, in spite of the dust rising from the broken
plaster, the others saw that Ruth and Chess Copley were both safe. The
latter was repeating, over and over and in much anxiety:

"You are all right, Ruth! I've got you. You are all right."

The girl herself was quite breathless. Copley held her in rather a close
embrace, and for a much longer time than appeared necessary--to Tom
Cameron at least. Tom had got around the table just too late to be of any
assistance.

"We see you've got her, 'Lasses," Tom observed, rather tartly. "The
close-up is shot. Break away."

His words started the laughter--and there was much relief expressed in
the laughter in which all about the table joined. People are apt to laugh
when serious danger is over. But it might have been observed by his
friends at another time that Tom Cameron was not usually tart or unkind
of speech.

Ruth said nothing, and Chess Copley flushed hotly. Jennie had got up with
Henri in the moment of excitement, and now she quickly seized her go