that to his own disturbed feeling Fuller
would infallibly have guessed his purpose, and either of the other
members of the quartette arriving, or any chance visitor strolling in,
would have known in a moment that he could have no other reason for
entering the house than to ask Ruth's hand in marriage. So he stood
somewhat awkwardly by the table, while Fuller re-entered the house and,
after a little pause, returned with a pile of music.

"This here's one of Ezra's books, I reckon," said the elder, singling
one volume from the pile. "It's the one you browt here the day he gi'en
you his libery."

"Ah!" said Reuben, "Manzini? That was the last music he opened for his
own playing, so he told me." He fluttered the leaves, glancing towards
the house meanwhile, but seeing nothing of his goddess. Fuller contented
himself with a mere grunt in answer to Reuben's statement, and rolled
off into the house once more, returning this time with his 'cello. He
propped the instrument tenderly against the table, and, seating himself
near it, began to arrange the music. Reuben still stood awkwardly
fingering the leaves of Manzini's duets, when Ruth appeared at the house
door. He had made but a step towards her, and had not even made a step
in his mind towards reading the half-shy, half-appealing aspect she
wore, when the prim figure of Aunt Rachel appeared from behind her, and
the old woman, with defiance expressed in every line and gesture, laid
her mit-tened hand on the girl's arm and advanced by her side. Reuben
stood arrested, and made a bow which he felt to be altogether awkward.
Ruth's brown eyes drooped, and she blushed, but she found courage a
second or two later for a glance of appeal which Reuben did not see. He
offered chairs to the old woman and the young one as they came near him,
but Rachel, with a stony little nod, walked by, taking her niece with
her.

The young man took instant counsel with himself. He sat down near the
table with Manzini's oblong folio in his lap, and, turning the pages
here and there, selected a moment when he was unobserved, and slipped
his missive between the front board of the binding and the first blank
leaf. It would be strange if he could not find time to whisper, "Look in
Manzini" before the day was over; and even if that course should fail he
could at least forward his letter by the penny-post, though that would
imply a delay of twelve hours, and was hardly tolerable to think of. If
he missed t