Mr. and Mrs. Curtis paid no attention to what was said by this
mysterious third party. Ruth, coming farther into the room, found that
it was large and pleasant. There was a comfortable look about it all.
The supper table was set and the door was opened into the warm
kitchen, from which delicious odors of tea and toast with some warm
dish of meat, were wafted in. But the shrill and complaining voice had
not come from the next room.

In the other corner beside the stove, yet not too near it, stood a
small canopy bed with the pretty chintz curtains drawn all about it.
Beside it stood a wheel-chair such as Ruth knew was used by invalids
who could not walk. It was a tiny chair, too, and it and the small bed
went together. But of the occupant of either she saw not a sign.

"Supper will be ready just as soon as our guest has a chance to remove
the traces of travel, Sam," said Mrs. Curtis, briskly. "Come with me,
Ruth."

When they returned from the pleasant little bed-chamber which the
good-hearted lady told Ruth was to be her own for that night, they
heard voices in the sitting room-- the voice of Mr. Curtis and the
querulous one. But it was not so sharp and strained as it seemed
before. However, on opening the door, Mr. Curtis was revealed sitting
alone and there was no sign of the owner of the sharp voice, which
Ruth supposed must belong to the invalid.

"Mercy has had her supper; hasn't she, wife?" said the station master
as he drew his chair to the table and motioned Ruth to the extra place
Mrs. Curtis had set.