ning he came hastily into
the nursery to say good-bye on his way out to some dinner-party, and at
night she woke up to hear his step on the stairs as he came back late.
But when he dined at home Ruth always went downstairs to dessert. Then,
as she entered the large sombre dining-room, where there were great oil
paintings on the walls and heavy hangings to the windows, and
serious-looking ponderous furniture, her father would look up from his
book, or from papers spread on the table, and nod kindly to her:
"Ah! it's you, Ruth. Quite well, eh? There's a good child. Have an
orange? That's right."
Then he would plunge into his reading again, and Ruth would climb slowly
on to a great mahogany chair placed ready for her, and watch him as she
cut up her orange.
She wondered very much why people wrote him such long, long letters, all
on blue paper and tied up with pink tape. She felt sure they were not
nice letters, for his face always looked worried over them; and when he
had finished he threw them on the floor, as though he were glad. This
made her so curious that she once ventured to ask him what they were.
They were called "briefs", he told her. But she was not much wiser; for,
hearing from Nurse Smith that "brief" was another word for short, she
felt sure there must be some mistake.
Exactly as the clock struck eight Nurse's knock came at the door, Ruth
got down from her chair and said good-night.
Sometimes her father was so deeply engaged in his reading that he stared
at her with a far-away look in his eyes, as if he scarcely knew who she
was. After a minute he said absently: "Bed-time, eh? Good-night.
Good-night, my dear." Sometimes when he was a little less absorbed he
put a sixpence or a shilling into her hand as he kissed her, and added:
"There's something to spend at the toy-shop."
Ruth received these presents without much surprise or joy. She was used
to buying things, and did not find it very interesting; for she could
not hope for any sign of pleasure from her dolls when she brought them
new clothes or furniture.
It is a little dull when all one's efforts for people are received with
a perfectly unmoved face. She had once brought Nurse Smith a small china
image, hoping that it would be an agreeable surprise; but that had not
been successful either. "Lor', my dear, don't you go spending your money
on me," she said. "Chany ornaments ain't much good for anything, to my
thinking, 'cept to ketch the dust.
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