romp, another a princess, another a boor, another a sparkling coquette,
out of the same woman. The female mood is susceptibly sympathetic to the
fitness or unfitness of dress. Now, Ruth was without doubt the same
girl who had so earnestly and sympathetically heard the doctor's
unconventional story; but the fashion of her gown had changed the
impression she had made a few hours back.

An hour later, and Dr. Kemp could not have failed to recognize Ruth,
the woman of his confidence. Something, perhaps a dormant spirit of
worldliness, kept her from disclosing to her mother the reason of her
going out. She herself felt no shame or doubt as to the advisability
of her action; but the certain knowledge of her mother's disapproval of
such a proceeding restrained the disclosure which, of a surety, would
have cost her the non-fulfilment of a kindly act. A bit of subterfuge
which hurts no one is often not only excusable, but commendable.
Besides, it saved her mother an annoying controversy; and so, fully
satisfied as to her part, Ruth took her way down the street. The
question as to whether the doctor had gone beyond the bounds of their
brief acquaintance had of course been presented to her mind; but if a
slight flush came into her face when she remembered the nature of the
narrative and the personality of the narrator, it was quickly banished
by the sweet assurance that in this way he had honored her beyond the
reach of current flattery.

A certain placid strength possessed her and showed in her grave brown
eyes; with her whole heart and soul she wished to do this thing, and
she longed to do it well. Her purpose robbed her of every trace of
nervousness; and it was a sweet-faced young woman who gently knocked
at room Number 10 on the second floor of a respectable lodging-house on
Polk Street.

Receiving no answer to her knock, she repeated it somewhat more loudly.
At this a tired voice called, "Come in."

She turned the knob, which yielded to her touch, and found herself in
a small, well-lighted, and neat room. Seated in an armchair near the
window, but with her back toward it, was what on first view appeared to
be a golden-haired child in black; one elbow rested on the arm of the
chair, and a childish hand supported the flower-like head. As Ruth
hesitated after closing the door behind her, she found a pair of
listless violet eyes regarding her from a small white face.

"Well?" queried the girl, without changing her position e