sort of earthen lamp cast a soft light over all. In the
dining-room I caught a glimpse of three sturdy little high chairs
painted bright red, picked up in some antique shop, evidently. On the
sideboard, a common table covered with a red cloth, I saw the glow of
old pewter.

"You've done wonders to this place," commented Tom, gazing about.

"Oliver gave me full permission before he went away," Ruth explained.
"I've stored a whole load-full of his things. It _is_ rather nice, I
think, myself."

"Nice? I should say it was! But did it pay for so short a time?" I
inquired.

"Oliver can keep the things as long as he wants them," said Ruth.

"But it must make your room in Irving Place an empty spot to go back
to," I replied.

Ruth went over to the lamp and did something to the shade. "Oh," she
said carelessly, "haven't I told you? I'm not going back. I've resigned
from Van de Vere's. Do all sit down."

Ruth might just as well have set off a cannon-cracker. We were startled
to say the least. We stood and stared at her.

"Do sit down," she repeated.

"But, Ruth, why have you done this? Why have you resigned?" I gasped at
last. She finished with the lamp-shade before she spoke.

"I insist upon your sitting down," she said. "There. That's better."
Then she gave a queer, low laugh and said, "I think it was the sight of
the baby's little flannel shirt stretched over the wooden frame hanging
in the bath-room that was the last straw that broke me before I wrote to
Mrs. Scot-Williams."

"But----"

"There was some one immediately available to take my place at Van de
Vere's--another protegee of Mrs. Scot-Williams. I had to decide quickly.
Madge is improving every week, Oliver writes, but she has got to stay in
Colorado at least during the winter, the doctor says. Becky is still far
from strong. She was very ill this summer. She doesn't take to
strangers. I think I'm needed here. It seemed necessary for me to stay."

"Perfect nonsense," Tom growled. "There's no more call for you to give
up your business than for Malcolm his. Perfectly absurd."

"But oh, how fine--how fine of you, Ruth!" exclaimed Elise.

"You shan't do it. You shan't," I ejaculated.

"Don't all make a mistake, please," said Ruth. "It is no sacrifice.
There's no unselfishness about it, no fine altruism. I'm staying because
I want to. I'm happier here. Can't any of you understand that?" she
asked. There was a quality in her voice that made us all glance