rather breathlessly.

Olga sprang to her feet. "Now, what is zat little fool up to?" she
cried, angrily. "If I catch her running out to meet men at zis hour
of--"

Ruth interrupted her. "She started in this direction but when she saw
us, she turned and went the other way. I was talking to Mr. Percival
out near the meeting-house. About the Easter services, Auntie," she made
haste to say as Mrs. Spofford looked up in surprise.

Olga was looking at her fixedly, an odd expression in her eyes, her lips
slightly parted.

"He has promised to help me. He is delighted to sing in the choir.
Madame Careni-Amori will sing two solos. She promises to make Joseppi
sing one or two. I--I was discussing the arrangements with Mr.
Percival."

"Now I understand," said Olga, gaily, but with the odd, inquiring look
still in her eyes. "Alma thought it was I. I have zem very well-trained,
those girls. She sees me with a man,--zip! She runs the other way as
fast as she can! That is the height of propriety,--is it not, Mrs.
Spofford?"

"I do not quite understand what you mean, Madame Obosky."

"Why did he say it was you?" cried Ruth, hot with chagrin.

Olga shrugged her shoulders. "He is so very amiable," said she. "I dare
say he thought it would please you."

Ruth bit her lip. There was no mistaking the challenge in the Russian's
remark, however careless it may have sounded.

"I came to see you about Mr. Percivail's birthday," said Olga, abruptly
changing the subject. "Some one has suggested zat we all join in giving
him a grand great big celebration. Bonfires, fire-works, a banquet with
speeches, and all zat kind of thing. What do you think, eh?"

"He wouldn't like it at all," said Ruth promptly. "Moreover, why should
we celebrate his birthday? He doesn't deserve it any more than scores of
other--"

"Oh, then we must drop it altogether," broke in Olga, rather
plaintively. "I thought every one would be in favour of it. But, of
course, if there is the slightest opposition--"

"I do not oppose it," said Ruth coldly. "Pray do not let me upset your
plans."

"It is not my plan. Zat nice, sarcastic Mr. Fitts, and Mr. Malone, and
Captain Trigger, they have proposed it, Miss Clinton, not I. But men
never quite get over being boys. They do not stop to question whether
a thing is right or wrong. I dare say after they have thought a little
longer over it, zey will agree with you that it is foolish to be so
enthusiastic about this fellow