nd mentally asked his
pardon for thinking he was a book-agent. He might become a pleasant
acquaintance, for he was tall, clean shaven, and well built. His hands
were white and shapely and he was well groomed, though not in the least
foppish. The troublesome eyes were dark brown, sheltered by a pair of
tinted glasses. His face was very expressive, responding readily to
every change of mood.

They talked "shop" for a time, discovering many mutual friends, and
Ruth liked him. He spoke easily, though hurriedly, and appeared to be
somewhat cynical, but she rightly attributed it to restlessness like her
own.

"What are you going to do on The Tribune?" she asked.

"Anything," he answered, with an indefinable shrug. "'Theirs not to
reason why, theirs but to do and die.' What are you going to do?"

"The same," replied Ruth. "'Society,''Mother's Corner,''Under the
Evening Lamp,' and 'In the Kitchen with Aunt Jenny.'"

He laughed infectiously. "I wish Carlton could hear you say that."

"I don't," returned Ruth, colouring faintly.

"Why; are you afraid of him?"

"Certainly I am. If he speaks to me, I'm instantly stiff with terror."

"Oh, he isn't so bad," said Winfield, reassuringly, "He's naturally
abrupt, that's all; and I'll venture he doesn't suspect that he has any
influence over you. I'd never fancy that you were afraid of anybody or
anything on earth."

"I'm not afraid of anything else," she answered, "except burglars and
green worms."

"Carlton would enjoy the classification--really, Miss Thorne, somebody
should tell him, don't you think? So much innocent pleasure doesn't
often come into the day of a busy man."

For a moment Ruth was angry, and then, all at once, she knew Winfield as
if he had always been her friend. Conventionality, years, and the veneer
of society were lightly laid upon one who would always be a boy. Some
men are old at twenty, but Winfield would be young at seventy.

"You can tell him if you want to," Ruth rejoined, calmly. "He'll be so
pleased that he'll double your salary on the spot."

"And you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with fun.

"I'll be pensioned, of course."

"You're all right," he returned, "but I guess I won't tell him. Riches
lead to temptation, and if I'm going to be on The Tribune I'd hate to
have you pensioned."

Hepsey appeared to have a great deal of employment in the dining-room,
and was very quiet about it, with long pauses between her leisurely
movements. Winf