had dared to fling myself down upon
the embroidered spreads. And then suddenly from below I heard the
scramble of four little feet on the hardwood floor, the eager, anxious
pant of a wheezy little dog hurrying up the stairs. It was Dandy--my
Boston terrier. Somehow, down behind the kitchen stove he had sensed
me, and his little dog heart was bursting with welcome. Only Dandy had
really missed me, sitting long, patient hours at a time at the
living-room window, watching for me to come up the drive; and finally
starting out on mysterious night searches of his own, as he always
does when days pass and I do not return. I heard the thud of his soft
body as he slipped and fell, in his haste, on the slippery hall floor.
And then a moment later he was upon me--paws and tongue and half-human
little yelps and cries pouring out their eloquence.

I held the wriggling, ecstatic little body close to me, and wondered
what it would be like if some human being was as glad to see me as
Dandy.

CHAPTER VI

BRECK SEWALL AGAIN

As I stood there in my devastated room, hugging to me a little scrap of
a dog, a desire to conceal my present poverty swept over me, just as I
had always wanted to hide the tell-tale economies of our household years
ago from my more affluent friends. I did not want pity. I was Ruth, of
whom my family had predicted great things--vague great things, I
confess. Never had I been quite certain what they were to be--but
something rather splendid anyhow.

We become what those nearest to us make us. The family made out of my
oldest brother Tom counselor and wise judge; out of my sister Lucy chief
cook and general-manager; out of me butterfly and ornament. In the eyes
of the family I have always been frivolous and worldly, and though they
criticize these qualities of mine, underneath their righteous veneer I
discover them marveling. They disparage my extravagance in dressing, and
then admire my frocks. In one breath they ridicule social ambition, and
in the next inquire into my encounters and triumphs. A desire to remain
in my old position I offer now as the least contemptible excuse of any
that I can think of for the following events of my life. I didn't want
to resign my place like an actress who can no longer take ingenue parts
because of wrinkles and gray hairs. When I came home that day and
discovered how unimportant I was, how weak had become my applause,
instead of trying to play a new part by making myse