some.

Nine months of the year Ruth was at boarding-school, and the remaining
three she insisted upon spending in the old home at Clayton, where
Carter kept his dogs and horses and spent his summers. Hitherto Mrs.
Nelson had compromised with her. By adroit management she contrived
to keep her, for weeks at a time, at various summer resorts, where she
expected her to serve a sort of social apprenticeship which would fit
her for her future career.

At nineteen Ruth developed alarming symptoms of obstinacy. Mrs. Nelson
confessed tearfully to the rest of the family that it had existed in
embryo for years. Instead of making the most of her first summer out
of school, the foolish girl announced her intention of going to
Willowvale for an indefinite stay.

It was indignation at this state of affairs that caused Mrs. Nelson to
lose her appetite. Clayton was to her the limit of civilization; there
was too much sunshine, too much fresh air, too much out of doors. She
disliked nature in its crude state; she preferred it softened and
toned down to drawing-room pitch.

She glanced up in disapproval as Ruth's laugh sounded in the hall.

"Rachel, tell her that lunch is waiting," she said to the colored
girl at her side.

Carter looked up as Ruth came breezily into the room. She wore her
riding-habit, and her hair was tossed by her brisk morning canter.

"You don't look as if you had danced all night," he said. "Did the
mare behave herself?"

"She's a perfect beauty, Carter. I rode her round the old mill-dam,
'cross the ford, and back by the Hollises'. Now I'm perfectly
famished. Some hot rolls, Rachel, and another croquette, and--and
everything you have."

Mrs. Nelson picked several crumbs from the cloth and laid them
carefully on her plate. "When I was a young lady I always slept after
being out in the evening. I had a half-cup of coffee and one roll
brought to me in bed, and I never rose until noon."

"But I hate to stay in bed," said Ruth; "and, besides, I hate to miss
a half-day."

"Is there anything on for this afternoon?" asked Carter.

"Why, yes--" Ruth began, but her aunt finished for her:

"Now, Carter, it's too warm to be proposing anything more. You aren't
well, and Ruth ought to stay at home and put cold cream on her face.
It is getting so burned that her pink evening-dresses will be worse
than useless. Besides, there is absolutely nothing to do in this
stupid place. I feel as if I couldn't stand it all su