of the swim." It was late in the season, and there were few guests at the
hotel. The Levices occupied one of the cottages, the other being used by a
pair of belated turtle-doves, --the wife a blushing dot of a woman, the
husband an overgrown youth who bent over her in their walks like a devoted
weeping-willow; there was a young man with a consumptive cough, a natty
little stenographer off on a solitary vacation, and the golden-haired
Tyrrell family, little and big, for Papa Tyrrell could not enjoy his
hard-earned rest without one and all. They were such a refined, happy,
sweet family, for all their pinched circumstances, that the Levices were
attracted to them at once. To be with Mrs. Tyrrell one whole day, Mrs.
Levice said was a liberal education, --so bright, so uncomplaining, so
ambitious for her children was she, and such a help and inspiration to her
hard-worked husband. Mr. Levice tramped about the woods with Tyrrell and
brier-wood pipes, and appreciated the moral bravery of a man who struggled
on with a happy face and small hope for any earthly rest. But the
children!--Floy with her dreamy face and busy sketch-book, Will with his
halo of golden hair, his manly figure and broad, open ambitions, Boss with
his busy step and fishing-tackle, and baby Ethel, the wee darling, who ran
after Ruth the first time she saw her and begged her to come and play with
her; ever since, she formed a part of the drapery of Ruth's skirt or a
rather cumbersome necklace about her neck. Every girl who has been
debarred the blessing of babies in the house loves them promiscuously and
passionately. Ruth was no exception; it amused the ladies to watch her
cuddle the child and wonder aloud at all her baby-talk.

Will was her next favorite satellite. A young girl with a winsome,
sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of a
fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.