“That is as people think, Ruthie; but we weren’t in the position, and never expect to be, of those who are high up in the world.”

“I am glad you told me about my father and mother,” said the girl.  “I love both their memories.  I am glad to think that my father served the Queen, and that my mother was the daughter of a clergyman.  But I am more glad to think that there never was such an honorable man as you, granddad, and that you made the grocery trade one of the best in the world.”

“It was a bad trade, my darling.  I had several severe losses.  It was very unfortunate my lending that money.”

“What money?”

“Oh, I will tell you another time; it doesn’t really matter.  There was a little bit of ingratitude there, but it doesn’t matter.  Only I made no fortune by grocery—­barely enough to put my boy into the army and to educate him for it, and enough to keep us with a pittance now that we are old.  But I have nothing to leave you, sweetest.  You just have your pension from the Government, which don’t count for nothing at all.”

Ruth rose to her feet.

“I am glad I got into the school,” she said.  “I hope to do wonders there.  I mean to take every scrap of good the place opens out to me.  I mean to work as hard as ever I can.  You shall be desperately proud of me; and so shall granny, although she doesn’t hold with much learning.”

“But I do, little girl; I love it more than anything.  I have got such a lovely scheme in my head.  I will work alongside of you, Ruth—­you and I at the same things.  You can lend me the books when you don’t want them.”

“What a splendid idea!” said Ruth, clapping her hands.

“You look quite happy, my dear.”

“And so I am.  I am about the happiest girl on earth.  And now, may I begin to look through my lessons for to-morrow?”

The old man arranged the lamp where its light would be most comfortable for the keen young eyes, and Ruth sat down to the table, got out her books, and worked for an hour or two.  Mrs. Craven came in, looked at her proudly, wagged her head, and returned to the kitchen.  After a time she came to the door and beckoned to the old man to follow her.  But the old man had taken up one of Ruth’s books and was absorbed in its contents; he was muttering words over under his breath.

“Coming, wife—­coming presently,” he said.

Ruth’s head was bent over her books.  Mr. Craven rose and went on tiptoe into the kitchen.

“We mustn’t disturb her, Susan,” he said.  “We must let her have her own way.  She must work just as long as she likes.  She is going to be a great power in the land, is that child, with her beauty and her talent; there’s nothing she can’t aspire to.”

“Now don’t you be a silly old man,” said Mrs. Craven.  “And what on earth were you whispering about to yourself when I came in?”

“I am going to work with her.  It will be a wonderful stimulation, and a great interest to me.  I always was keen for book-learning.”