g
further designs upon another one when her mother sent her to set the
table in the sitting-room.

Thither sauntered Ruhannah, partly dressed, still dressing.

By the nickel-trimmed stove she completed her toilet, then hastily
laid the breakfast cloth and arranged the china and plated tableware,
and filled the water pitcher.

Her father came in on his crutches; she hurried from the table, syrup
jug in one hand, cruet in the other, and lifted her face to be kissed;
then she brought hot plates, coffeepot, and platters, and seated
herself at the table where her father and mother were waiting in
silence.

When she was seated her father folded his large, pallid, bony hands;
her mother clasped hers on the edge of the table, bowing her head; and
Ruhannah imitated them. Between her fingers she could see the cat
under the table, and she watched it arch its back and gently rub
against her chair.

"For what we are about to receive, make us grateful, Eternal Father.
This day we should go hungry except for Thy bounty. Without presuming
to importune Thee, may we ask Thee to remember all who awake hungry on
this winter day.... Amen."

Ruhannah instantly became very busy with her breakfast. The cat beside
her chair purred loudly and rose at intervals on its hind legs to
twitch her dress; and Ruhannah occasionally bestowed alms and
conversation upon it.

"Rue," said her mother, "you should try to do better with your algebra
this week."

"Yes, I do really mean to."

"Have you had any more bad-conduct marks?"

"Yes, mother."

Her father lifted his mild, dreamy eyes of an invalid. Her mother
asked:

"What for?"

"For wasting my time in study hour," said the girl truthfully.

"Were you drawing?"

"Yes, mother."

"Rue! Again! Why do you persist in drawing pictures in your copy
books when you have an hour's lesson in drawing every week? Besides,
you may draw pictures at home whenever you wish."

"I don't exactly know why," replied the girl slowly. "It just happens
before I notice what I am doing.... Of course," she explained, "I do
recollect that I oughtn't to be drawing in study hour. But that's
after I've begun, and then it seems a pity not to finish."

Her mother looked across the table at her husband:

"Speak to her seriously, Wilbour."

The Reverend Mr. Carew looked solemnly at his long-legged and rapidly
growing daughter, whose grey eyes gazed back into her father's sallow
visage.

"Rue," he said in his c