“It’s only meself, Mr. Arthur,” said Ellen, quite out of breath, “and it’s a great favor I’ve come up to ask of you.  You see,” she went on hurriedly, “poor little Miss Ruth has got word in tonight’s paper that there’s been an accident on her father’s boat, and she’s that frightened and worried that she doesn’t know what to do with herself.  It’s too bad for her to have to eat her dinner with nothing but her own sad thoughts for company, and I thought perhaps you—­”

“Oh, no, Ellen, I can’t,” interrupted Arthur decidedly; “why, I don’t really know her yet.”

“The more shame to you that you don’t when she’s been livin’ in your house for two weeks,” answered Ellen, as much surprised at her own boldness as Arthur was.  “I’ve been livin’ with your mother ever since you was a wee baby, Mr. Arthur, and there ain’t any one outside your own family who loves you more than I do, but I must say I’m disappointed in you.”

Arthur looked at her in amazement, but Ellen went on without giving him a chance to speak.

“Don’t you know that life is just made up of knock-downs and get-ups,” she said quaintly, “and whatever will you do if you stay down the first time you’re hit?”

Something in the homely little sermon touched a responsive chord in Arthur as nothing else had done.  “You’re a good fellow, Ellen,” he said affectionately, “and to prove that I think so I’m going down to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, Mr. Arthur,” cried Ellen, almost on the point of tears, and saving herself from it only by wringing her apron convulsively in both hands.  “It’s the angel boy you are to take all the hard things I said so sweetly.  And it’s that glad I am that you’re going down, for I don’t belave Miss Ruth could eat a mite of dinner without some man or other to encourage her about her father.”

“I’ll get down before she does if I can,” said Arthur, reaching for his crutches, “and see what the paper says about the steamer.”

“That’a right, Mr. Arthur, do,” answered Ellen, “and I’ll hurry down and see to the dinner.”  But she stopped on her way to knock on Ruth’s door and say coaxingly, “You won’t change your mind, Miss Ruth, dear; you’ll surely come down.”

Ruth, who was sitting in the big chair with the black kitten in her arms, looked up soberly.  “I don’t believe I’ll come down after all, Ellen; I’m not a bit hungry, and I’m sure I couldn’t eat a mouthful.”

“Oh, but Miss Ruth,” cried Ellen in despair, “you’ll spoil all my plans if you don’t.  I’ve just persuaded Mr. Arthur to come down so that you needn’t be alone, and perhaps if he comes the once he will every day.  Just think how happy it will make his father and mother!”

Ruth’s forehead puckered into a frown.  She felt much more like sitting in front of her fire and thinking sad, lonely thoughts.  But it was such a small thing to do for Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, who had been so kind to her, and it would mean so much to them if it did help Arthur to conquer his dread of taking up the old life again.  Then, too, it would be a triumph to tell the girls that one member of the society for the restoration of Arthur Hamilton to the world had already begun the good work.