after a long walk through the woods and fields. Inaction became
irritation, and each day was filled with a thousand unbearable
annoyances. She was fretful, moody, and restless, always wishing
herself back in the office, yet knowing that she could not do
good work, even if she were there.

She sat in her room one afternoon, frankly miserable, when Hepsey
stalked in, unannounced, and gave her a card.

"Mr. Carl Winfield!" Ruth repeated aloud. "Some one to see me,
Hepsey?" she asked, in astonishment.

"Yes'm. He's a-waitin' on the piazzer."

"Didn't you ask him to come in?"

"No'm. Miss Hathaway, she don't want no strangers in her house."

"Go down immediately," commanded Ruth, sternly, "ask him into the
parlour, and say that Miss Thorne will be down in a few moments."

"Yes'm."

Hepsey shuffled downstairs with comfortable leisure, opened the
door with aggravating slowness, then said, in a harsh tone that
reached the upper rooms distinctly: "Miss Thorne, she says that
you can come in and set in the parlour till she comes down."

"Thank you," responded a masculine voice, in quiet amusement;
"Miss Thorne is kind--and generous."