"I think she's right, Hepsey," laughed Ruth, "though I never
thought of it in just that way. I'll have to wait until she comes
home."

In the afternoon she donned the short skirt and heavy shoes of
her "office rig," and started down hill to explore the village.
It was a day to tempt one out of doors,--cool and bright, with
that indefinable crispness which belongs to Spring.

The hill rose sheer from the highlands, which sloped to the river
on the left, as she went down, and on the right to the forest. A
side path into the woods made her hesitate for a moment, but she
went straight on.

It was the usual small town, which nestles at the foot of a hill
and eventually climbs over it, through the enterprise of its
wealthier residents, but, save for Miss Hathaway's house, the
enterprise had not, as yet, become evident. At the foot of the
hill, on the left, was Miss Ainslie's house and garden, and
directly opposite, with the width of the hill between them, was a
brown house, with a lawn, but no garden except that devoted to
vegetables.

As she walked through the village, stopping to look at the
display of merchandise in the window of the single shop, which
was also post-office and grocery, she attracted a great deal of
respectful attention, for, in this community, strangers were an
event. Ruth reflected that the shop had only to grow to about
fifty times its present size in order to become a full-fledged
department store and bring upon the town the rank and dignity of