My poor Molly! I met father, and--"

Ruth stood in the door-way, and stopped short. A wave of color passed
over her face, and left it paler than usual.

Charles looked at her over the mop of Molly's brown head against his
breast. Their grave eyes met, and each thought how ill the other looked.

"I did not know--I thought you were going to Slumberleigh to-day," said
Ruth.

"I go to-morrow morning," replied Charles. "I came here first."

There was an awkward silence, but Molly came to their relief by a sudden
rush at Ruth, and a repetition of the details of the death-bed scene of
poor Vic for her benefit, for which both were grateful.

"You ought to be thinking where he is to be buried, Molly," suggested
Charles, when she had finished. "Let us go into the garden and find a
place."

Molly revived somewhat at the prospect of a funeral, and though Ruth was
anxious to leave her with her uncle, insisted on her remaining for the
ceremony. They went out together, Molly holding a hand of each, to
choose a suitable spot in the garden. By the time the grave had been
dug by Charles, Molly was sufficiently recovered to take a lively
interest in the proceedings, and to insist on the attendance of the
stable-cat, in deep mourning, when the remains of poor Vic, arrayed in
his best collar, were lowered into their long home.

By the time the last duties to the dead had been performed, and Charles,
under Molly's direction, had planted a rose-tree on the grave, while
Ruth surrounded the little mound with white pebbles, Molly's tea-time
had arrived, and that young lady allowed herself to be led away by the
nursery-maid, with the stable-cat in a close embrace, resigned, and even
cheerful at the remembrance of those creature comforts of cook's, which
earlier in the day she had refused so peremptorily.

When Molly left them, Ruth and Charles walked together in silence to the
garden-gate which led to the foot-path over the fields by which she had
come. Neither had a word to say, who formerly had so much.

"Good-bye," she said, without looking at him.

He seemed intent on the hasp of the gate.

There was a moment's pause.

"I should like," said Ruth, hating herself for the formality of her
tone, "to thank you before I go for giving Mrs. Alwynn so much pleasure.
She still talks of her visit to you. It was kind of you to remember it.
So much seems to have happened since then, that I had not thought of it
again."

At her last words