theart to sit on, and another smaller one for her
lovely shoulders when the cool of the evening came on, were to be stowed
away under the seat.

"That telegram is from Aunt Felicia, I know," said Ruth. "She has set
her heart on my coming up to Geneseo, but I cannot go, Jack. I don't
want to be a minute away from you."

Jack had now broken the seal and was scanning the contents. Instantly
his face grew grave.

"No--it's not from Aunt Felicia," he said in a thoughtful tone, his eyes
studying the despatch. "I don't know whom it's from; it is signed T.
Ballantree; I never heard of him before. He wants me to meet him at the
Astor House to-day at eleven o'clock. Some business of your father's, I
expect--see, it's dated Morfordsburg. Too bad, isn't it, blessed--but
I must go. Here, boy"--this to the messenger, who was moving out of the
door--"stop at the livery stable as you go by and tell them I won't want
the horse and wagon, that I'm going to New York. All in a life-time, my
blessed--but I'm dreadfully sorry."

"And you MUST go? Isn't it mean, Jack--and it's such a lovely day."

"Yes--but it can't be helped. What are you going to do with the
sandwiches and chicken and things? And you had so much trouble making
them. And you will be lonely, too."

"Why, I shall keep them till you come back, and we'll have a lovely
feast at home," she said with a light laugh in her effort to hide her
feelings. "Oh, no, I shan't be lonely. You won't be gone long, Jack,
will you, dear?"

"I hope not." His mind must no longer rest on the outing. There was work
to do for Ruth as well as himself. His play time had come to a sudden
end; the bell had rung and recess was over. He looked at his watch;
there was just time to catch the train.

She followed him to the door and kissed her hand as he swung down the
path and through the gate, and watched him until he had disappeared
behind the long wall of the factory; then she went in, put away the
sandwiches and chicken, and the teapot and the cups and saucers, and
emptied the ice.

Yes, the day was spoiled, she said to herself--part of it anyway; but
the night would come, and with it Jack would burst in with news of all
he had seen and done, and they would each have an end of the table;
their last dinner in the old home, where everything on which her eyes
rested revived some memory of their happiness. But then there would be
other outings at Morfordsburg, and so what mattered one day when ther