while the folks are gone."

"Thank you; I shall. The last dinner I ate with you was delicious enough
to do away with any verbal invitation to another."

He arose, seeing Ruth had risen and was kissing her cousins good-by.

Mrs. Lewis beamed with pleasure at his words.

"Now, won't you take something before you go?" she asked. "Ruth, I have
the loveliest cakes."

"Oh, Jennie," remonstrated Ruth, as her cousin bustled off, "we have just
dined."

"Let her enjoy herself," observed Louis; "she is never so happy as when she
is feeding somebody."

The clink of glasses was soon heard, and Mrs. Lewis's rosy face appeared
behind a tray with tiny glasses and a plate of rich, brown-looking little
cakes.

"Jo, get the Kirsch. You must try one, Ruth; I made them myself."

When they had complimented her on her cakes and Louis had drunk to his next
undertaking, suggested by Jo Lewis, the visitors departed.

They had been walking in almost total silence for a number of blocks, when
Ruth turned suddenly to him and said with great earnestness, --