CHAPTER VIII.

FLURRY AND FLOSSY.


What a funny little name! I could not help saying so to Miss Lucas
as I followed her up the old oak staircase with its beautifully
carved balustrades.

"It is her own baby abbreviation of Florence," she returned, pausing
on the landing to take breath, for even that slight ascent seemed to
weary her. She was quite pale and panting by the time we arrived at
our destination. "It is nice to be young and strong," she observed,
wistfully. "I am not very old, it is true"--she could not have been
more than eight-and-twenty--"but I have never enjoyed good health,
and Dr. Cameron says I never can hope to do so; but what can you
expect of a crooked little creature like me?" with a smile that was
quite natural and humorous, and seemed to ask no pity.

Miss Ruth was perfectly content with her life. I found out afterward
she evoked rare beauty out of its quiet every-day monotony, storing
up precious treasures in homely vessels.

Life was to her full of infinite possibilities, a gradual dawning
and brightening of hopes that would meet their full fruition
hereafter. "Some people have strength to work," she said once to me,
"and then plenty of work is given to them; and some must just keep
quiet and watch others work, and give them a bright word of
encouragement now and then. I am one of those wayside loiterers," she
finished, with a laugh; but all the same every one knew how much Miss