ed to run up here, that's
all, and found this poor little thing crying down by the gate. It's
Becky, isn't it, Oliver? I haven't seen her for a year."

"It's just a shame you didn't let us meet you," said Edith. "Walking in
this weather! I declare it is. Come, give that child to me, and you go
on upstairs and get washed up. She's ruining your skirt. Come, Becky."

Becky is an extremely timid little creature. She hadn't let any one but
Oliver touch her since Madge had gone the day before. She had been
crying most of the time. Her lip quivered at the sight of Edith's
outstretched hands. I saw her plump arm tighten around Ruth's neck.

"Here, come, Becky," said Oliver sternly, and offered to take her
himself. She turned away even from him. "She takes fancies," explained
Oliver. "You're in for it, I'm afraid, Ruth."

"Am I?" Ruth said, flushing unaccountably. "Well, you see," she went on
apologetically, "I came upon her down there by the gate just as she had
fallen down and hurt her knee. I was the only one to pick her up, so she
had to let me. I put powder on the bruised knee. It interested her. It
made her laugh. We had quite a game, and when I came away she insisted
upon coming, too."

"You see, Madge has started for Colorado," I explained, "and Becky----"

"Colorado!" exclaimed Ruth. Of course she didn't know.

We told her about it.

"Poor little lonely kiddie," Ruth said softly afterward, giving Becky a
strange little caress with the tip of her finger on the end of the
child's infinitesimal nose. "Most as forlorn as some one they don't
invite to family reunions any more."

"Why, Ruth," I remonstrated. "We thought--you see----"

"Never mind," she interrupted lightly. "I wasn't serious. I'll run
upstairs now, and freshen up a bit."

"Come, Becky," ordered Oliver, "get down."

I saw Becky's arm tighten around Ruth's neck again. She's an
unaccountable child.

Ruth said quietly, "Let her come upstairs with me, if she wants. I
haven't had a welcome like this since the days of poor little Dandy."

An hour later Edith and I found Ruth sitting in a rocking-chair in the
room that used to be hers years ago when she was a young girl. She was
holding Becky.

"What in the world are you doing?" asked Edith.

"I never held a sleeping child before, and I'm discovering," replied
Ruth, softly so as not to disturb Becky. "Aren't the little things
limp?"

"Well, put her down now, do," said practical Edith. "We want you