“Wasn’t that too bad?” said Betty softly as she came in and closed the door.  “Arthur is dreadfully sensitive about his lameness, and I am afraid it will take him a long time to get over this afternoon’s experience.  Why, just think, this is the first time I’ve seen him since his accident.”

Betty was trying to look sober, but her eyes were dancing with merriment in spite of her efforts.  Finally she gave a half-stifled little laugh as she said, “I was dreadfully sorry for him, but he was so funny sitting there at the top of the stairs and looking so dignified and cross.  I almost know he’d been doing his best to get up without letting us hear him.”

Betty’s laugh was irresistible, and Ruth, who had been on the verge of either laughter or tears ail day, couldn’t help joining in.

“Oh, oh,” laughed Betty, burying her face in a cushion.  “Sh, sh, he’ll hear us,” she gasped, as Ruth gave an answering peal of laughter.  “It’s dreadful of us,” said Betty at last, sitting up and wiping her eyes, “to laugh at that poor boy.  I’m just ashamed.”

“So am I,” gasped Ruth, “but you’re really too funny when you laugh and I couldn’t help it.”

Betty’s eyes twinkled, and Ruth looked as though a fresh burst were imminent when a pleasant voice said in the doorway: 

“Well, I hear that my girl has stolen a march on me and got here before I expected her.  Your father’s telegram has only just arrived, my dear, and I am so sorry that I wasn’t here to welcome you.”

Ruth looked with eager curiosity at the tall, gracious woman who came toward her.  Then she put both hands into the welcoming ones outstretched to meet her, and said with a little quiver in her voice: 

“Papa said that the moment I saw you I should feel at home, and I do.”

CHAPTER IV

A NEW CLUB

The first days in the new home, while Mr. Shirley was still in New York and within reach, were hard to bear and unpleasant to think of afterward.  The new friends were so anxious to help her through the hard time that they scarcely gave her time to think, but in spite of their kindness, Ruth went to bed at night with a lonesome ache in her throat, and got up in the morning with the wild desire to take the first train to New York and catch papa before he should sail.

When at last the day and hour of sailing had come and gone, Ruth found it easier to resign herself to the inevitable, and began to really enjoy life instead of only seeming to do so.

Glenloch was a beautiful town, just far enough from Boston to make it seem like the country, and yet near enough so that concerts and shopping were within easy reach.  To Ruth, who, except for brief visits East, had been accustomed ail her life to the level stretches of the Middle West, the New England hills, just now radiant in their autumn coloring were a constant source of delight.