of glorious hair that crowned her
lovely head. He noticed, too, some tiny threads that lay close to her
ears: he had been so hungry for a glimpse of them!

"Oh, I hope so, but you shouldn't have come to the station that day,"
she struggled on. "We had Uncle Peter with us, and only a hand-bag, each
of us,--we came away so suddenly."

"I didn't want you to be frightened about your father. I didn't know
that Uncle Peter was with you; in fact, I didn't know much of anything
until it was all over. Bolton sent the telegram as soon as he got his
breath."

"That's what frightened us. Why didn't YOU send it?" she was gaining
control of herself now and something of her old poise had returned.

"I hadn't got MY breath,--not all of it. I remember his coming into my
room where they were tying me up and bawling out something about how
to reach you by wire, and he says now that I gave him Mr. Grayson's
address. I cannot remember that part of it, except that I--Well, never
mind about that--" he hesitated turning away his gaze--the memory seemed
to bring with it a certain pain.

"Yes,--tell me," she pleaded. She was too happy. This was what she had
been waiting for. There was no detail he must omit.

"It was nothing, only I kept thinking it was you who were hurt," he
stammered.

"Me!" she cried, her eyes dancing. The ray of light was breaking--one
with a promise in it for the future!

"Yes,--you, Miss Ruth! Funny, isn't it, how when you are half dead you
get things mixed up." Oh, the stupidity of these lovers! Not a thing
had he seen of the flash of expectation in her eyes or of the hot color
rising to her cheeks. "I thought somebody was trying to tell your father
that you were hurt, and I was fighting to keep him from hearing it. But
you must thank Bolton for letting you know."

Ruth's face clouded and the sparkle died out in her eyes. What was Mr.
Bolton to her, and at a time like this?

"It was most kind of Mr. Bolton," she answered in a constrained voice.
"I only wish he had said something more; we had a terrible day. Uncle
Peter was nearly crazy about you; he telegraphed and telegraphed, but we
could get no answer. That's why it was such a relief to find you at the
station."

But the bat had not finished banging his head against the wall. "Then I
did do some good by going?" he asked earnestly.

"Oh, indeed you did." If he did not care whether she had been hurt or
not, even in his delirium, she was not going to betra