"Miss Thorne," said Hepsey, from the doorway of Ruth's room,
"that feller's here again." There was an unconscious emphasis on
the last word, and Ruth herself was someewhat surprised, for she
had not expected another call so soon.

"He's a-settinn' in the parlour,"continued Hepsey, "when he ain't
a-walkin' around it and wearin' out the carpet. I didn't come up
when he first come, on account of my pie crust bein' all ready to
put in the oven."

"How long has he been here?" asked Ruth, dabbing a bit of powder
on her nose and selecting a fresh collar.

"Oh, p'raps half an hour."

"That isn't right, Hepsey; when anyone comes you must tell me
immediately. Never mind the pie crust next time." Ruth
endeavoured to speak kindly, but she was irritated at the
necessity of making another apology.

When she went down, Winfield dismissed her excuses with a
comprehensive wave of the hand. "I always have to wait when I go
to call on a girl," he said; "it's one of the most charming
vagaries of the ever-feminine. I used to think that perhaps I
wasn't popular, but every fellow I know has the same experience."

"I'm an exception," explained Ruth; "I never keep any one
waiting. Of my own volition, that is," she added, hastily,
feeling his unspoken comment.