elly she had misjudged the world when she had called it
inconsiderate. And the course of conduct which in the morning had seemed
to her admirable and heroic, suddenly appeared foolish in the extreme.
The faint tinge of color showing in her white cheeks was not an
indication of returning strength so much as of mortification.

The departure of Jack and Graham was immediately put off till Ruth
should be well enough to take part in the fun which was to serve as a
climax to the visit. For the remainder of the day, Ruth found herself
the centre of attraction in Dolittle Cottage. She lay at ease on the
couch, with wet compresses on her forehead. The shutters were closed to
keep out the sunshine. Every one walked on tiptoe, and spoke in subdued
accents. Even the fly-away Dorothy sought the invalid at frequent
intervals to murmur, "Poor Rufie! Poor Rufie," and to pat Ruth's arm
with a sympathetic little hand. Now that it had gained its point, the
headache decreased in severity, but had the pain been far more violent,
Ruth would have minded it less than sundry pangs of conscience which
would not allow her to forget that she really was undeserving of all
this tender consideration.

By the end of the afternoon she was able to sit up and to share in the
general excitement which welcomed Amy on her return from the village.
Several days before, Amy had carried down a roll of films to be
developed at the local photographer's, and was now bringing back a neat
little package of prints. "Oh, the flash-light picture is here, isn't
it?" exclaimed Ruth, to whose chair the package had been brought
immediately, while the others stood around awaiting their turn. "I want
to see that first."

Amy looked a trifle discomfited.

"Yes, it's here," she replied. "But the photographer said if I wanted to
be a success I'd have to learn to flatter people more. He said that he
learned that long ago."

The flash-light picture was certainly far from flattering. The brilliant
light had caused every pair of eyes to roll heavenward, till only the
whites were visible, so that the group looked not unlike a company of
inmates of a blind asylum, posing for a photograph. But the missing eyes
were not the only startling features of this remarkable picture. Several
mouths were open to their widest extent, and except for the face of Jack
Rynson, who was a young man with an unusual capacity for self-control,
every countenance was convulsed by an agitation whose exc