While the girls had been talking, Arthur had been trying to make
up his mind to start up the stairs again. The flight looked endless
to him, and after the excitement and effort he had just been through
he felt weak and miserable. Time after time he decided to start,
and once he got as far as the stairs, but a sudden sound drove him
back to the hall sofa again. How could he tell that Betty might not
come down at any minute and perhaps bring Ruth with her? At last a
brilliant idea struck him. Ruth must be hungry after her journey,
and if Ellen should take up a lunch it would keep them busy for
some time at least. He made his way out into the kitchen, where
Ellen received him with wonder and delight, and almost cried over
him, so great was her joy at seeing him down-stairs once more.
Then, having waited until the tray was safely in Ruth's room, he
started up-stairs. It was no small undertaking to hitch along, one
stair at a time, dragging a stiff, painful leg, and pulling his
crutches after him. At last, however, with only three more stairs
before him, he stopped to rest a moment and began to breathe more
easily.

"There," said Ruth, as she finished her last piece of bread
and butter and set down her cup with hardly a drop in it, "I feel
like another girl. I didn't know how hungry I was. I couldn't eat
any dinner on the train because I felt so badly over leaving papa
and----"

A strange noise interrupted her. A noise of some one or something
clattering, bumping, sliding down-stairs.

"What do you think it is, Betty?" asked Ruth turning pale.