to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?"

"Indeed, you are right," she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to descent
the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came suddenly upon
them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth gaping wide.

When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.

"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed.

The man's mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.

"Begging your pardon, Miss, --I mean Her pardon, --the Lord forgive me, I
took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the shining hair.
Now, don't be telling of me, will you?"

"Indeed, we won't; we'll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves. Have you
the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me."

Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It was still
light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened them.

"This," she announced in a matter-of-course way, "is from Miss Dorothy
Gwynne, who requests the pleasure of my company at a high-tea next
Saturday. That, or the hay-ride, Will? And this--this--"

It was a simple envelope addressed to

Miss RUTH LEVICE--