cked I am?" she added in a tense whisper.

"I have no idea," Ruth replied calmly. "But I think that when we are
nervous and distraught as you are, we magnify our sins as well as our
troubles."

Really, Ruth Fielding felt that she might take this philosophy to
herself. She had been of late magnifying her troubles, without doubt.

"I have been a great sinner," said the woman. "Do you know, I used to
steal my little sister's bread and jam. And now she is dead. I can never
make it up to her."

Plainly this was a serious matter to the excited mind of the poor woman.

"Come on down the hill with me. I have got an automobile there and we can
ride to Mrs. Drake's in it. Isn't that where you are stopping?"

"Yes, yes. Abby Drake," said the lost woman weakly. "We--we all started
out for huckleberries. And I never thought before how wicked I was to my
little sister. But the storm burst--such a terrible storm!" and the poor
creature cowered close to Ruth as the thunder muttered again in the
distance.

"It is the voice of God----"

"Come along!" urged Ruth. "Lots of people have made the same mistake. So
Aunt Alvirah says. They mistake some other noise for the voice of God!"

The woman was now so weak that the strong girl could easily lead her. Mr.
Peterby Paul looked at the forlorn figure askance, however.

"You can't blame me for thinkin' she was a Whosis," he said to Ruth. "Poor
critter! It's lucky you came after her. She give me such a start I might
o' run sort o' wild myself."

"Perhaps if you had tried to catch her it would only have made her worse,"
Ruth replied, gently patting the excited woman's hand.

"The voice of God!" muttered the victim of her own nervousness.

"And she traipsing through these woods in a silk dress!" exclaimed Mr.
Paul. "I tell 'em all, city folks ain't got right good sense."

"Maybe you are right, Mr. Paul," sighed Ruth. "We are all a little queer,
I guess. I will take her down to the car."

"And I'll be right along with a couple of cans of gasoline, Ma'am,"
rejoined Peterby Paul. "Ain't no use you and your friends bein' stranded
no longer."

"If you will be so kind," Ruth said.

He turned back up the ravine and Ruth urged the lost woman down the hill.
The poor creature was scarcely able to walk, even after she had put on her
lost shoe. Her fears which had driven her into this quite irresponsible
state, were the result of ungoverned nervousness. Ruth thought seriously
of this fact a