"But where have you been and how did you manage to get lost?"

questioned Betty.

"Oh, don't ask me any questions now, but give me a looking-gla.s.s and some powder so that I can fix this dreadful nose before the others get here," implored Ruth. "I'm tired to death, but I started out to make myself look better before I came to your party, and I want to do it."

The three girls vanished up-stairs, leaving Arthur to poke the fire and chuckle quietly over this truly feminine ending to the tragedy.

"She's the real thing," he said to himself. "Doesn't want to be pitied and fussed over."

By the time the others had gathered, Ruth came down-stairs and was besieged at once with questions.

"It was so foolish of me," she said as she finished telling her story. "I might so easily have sent one of those small boys across the pond. All I could think of at first was to go somewhere where I could take care of my poor nose." As she spoke she shut one eye and gazed with the other at her red and swollen nose.

"I think the swelling's going down a little, don't you?" she asked anxiously.

They all laughed, and Jack said almost as if he felt it a personal grievance, "I don't believe you were so scared as we were after all."

It was a jolly supper, but to Ruth, who ached from head to foot, it seemed as if it would never end. She did her best to behave as usual, and succeeded so well that for some time no one noticed how pale and tired she looked.

As they got up from the table, Arthur said suddenly: "Say, Phil, I'm awfully tired. Do you mind getting out your old nag now? And, Ruth, wouldn't you like to go home too?"

"Oh, yes," answered Ruth, so eagerly that the others realized at once the cause of Arthur's sudden weariness. No one said a word, but the girls almost fell over each other in their endeavors to a.s.sist her, and the boys rushed the sleigh to the door in great haste.

"Ladies first," said Phil gallantly, and before Ruth realized what was happening, he and Frank had gently picked her up and deposited her in the sleigh. Then came Arthur, and then the boys piled in on the front seat.

Mrs. Hamilton met them at the front door. "I'm so glad you came home early, children. Ruth, you must be tired to death after skating."

"I am. Oh, I am," answered Ruth with a little laugh, and then she surprised herself by throwing both arms about Mrs. Hamilton's neck and bursting into tears.

"Don't you dare to think I'm crying, Arthur Hamilton," she managed to say between her sobs. "I said I wouldn't, and I won't," and then realizing the absurdity of what she was saying, she laughed as unrestrainedly as she had cried.

The sight of Mrs. Hamilton's worried face and Arthur's helpless alarm brought her to her senses, and she said penitently, "Do forgive me for being so foolish. I've tried so hard not to cry that when I felt Aunt Mary's arms around me it just had to come out."

"Darling, the best place for you is in bed, and I shall see that you're tucked in all 'comfy,'" said Mrs. Hamilton tenderly.

As she started up the stairs, Ruth turned to Arthur who was slowly following. "I really do believe you saved my life," she said earnestly. "I was so frightened and tired and achy that I couldn't have gone many more steps if that blessed old voice hadn't led me."

"Oh, some one would have found you before long," answered Arthur, who hated to take any undeserved credit to himself.

"Perhaps," a.s.sented Ruth doubtfully. "At any rate it would have been a trifle cold sitting there waiting to be found, and I prefer to think you saved my life. It makes me feel much more important."

"Ail right, we'll call it so then," said Arthur with a laugh. "And now we're square again, as we were on the night when we first ate dinner together, for if I saved your life you have certainly saved my common sense."

"I must say I like it to hear you compare your common sense with my life. However, I'll shake hands on it," and with a laughing good-night Ruth followed Mrs. Hamilton into the pink room.

Arthur thumped along into his own room and went happily to bed, feeling that girls were pluckier that he had thought them, and that even crutch-bearers could accomplish something in the world.

CHAPTER XIII

MISS CYNTHIA

"Come down to the pond with me this afternoon," said Dorothy as she and Ruth parted on their way home from school a few days after the skating-party, "and we'll go into a quiet comer and practice until you feel sure of yourself."

"All right; I'll go," Ruth answered, "but I can't stay long; I must study for at least an hour before dinner."

"Well, be at my house by two, and then we shall have the pond almost to ourselves for a while, and we'll be ready to go home by the time the crowd gets there."

Dorothy was a good teacher and in the hour they spent on the pond Ruth gained both skill and confidence.

"I never shall be nervous again about it," she said with enthusiasm as they took a last swing around the pond together. "It's like so many other things; you have to get the feeling of it before you can really enjoy it."

"That's so," a.s.sented Dorothy; "you probably never will lose it now. My, but it's growing colder every minute, isn't it? Let's hurry home, and I'll make some hot chocolate. You'll have plenty of time before you need to study."

Ruth stooped to take off her skates at once. "I'm really as hungry as a bear," she confessed, "and a cup of your chocolate will be fine."

When the girls entered the house Dorothy stopped short as she caught the sound of voices in the library. She listened intently a second, then she frowned, put her finger on her lips, and grasping Ruth by the hand led her softly across the hall and up-stairs. Not until they had reached the large room in the third story and had closed the door did she break the silence which enfolded them.

"For pity's sake," asked Ruth as she took off her coat and hat, "what is it and who is it?"

"Oh, it's only Miss Cynthia," answered Dolly carelessly. "I didn't want mother to know I'm in the house."

"Who's Miss Cynthia?" pursued Ruth with great curiosity, "and why don't you want your mother to know?"

"Why, Miss Cynthia Atwood, of course. Don't you know her yet?

You're fortunate, that's all I can say. She lives in that funny little house near the library, and she's the last surviving member of one of the oldest families here. I ought to know, for she's told me times enough."

"But why don't you like her?" persisted Ruth, who was toasting herself in front of the open fire while Dorothy got out the materials for the chocolate.

"Oh, I don't know," answered Dolly with a shrug. "She's tiresome and inquisitive, and she's always coming round to make visitations on days when she ought not to be out, and then we girls or the boys have to see that she gets home safely. I can't help slipping out of her way whenever I can."

"Well, you certainly slipped this time," said Ruth with a laugh. "I didn't really know what was going to happen to me. What a good-timey looking room this is, Dolly," she went on, glancing about her.

"I always feel when I am up here as if I can't go away until I've tried every one of these games."

It was a huge room, rather bare of ornament except for the pictures Frank and Dorothy had put up, but wholly suggestive of good times, as Ruth had said. Nothing was too good for use, and everything promised pleasure of the most wholesome kind.

"Father and mother like us to have our best times at home," said Dolly sipping her chocolate with a critical air, "and Frank and I have had this room for a playroom ever since I can remember."

"It must be fine to have a brother or sister," said Ruth wistfully.

"I don't think only children have half so much fun."

"They miss some quarrels, too," laughed Dolly. "Poor old Frankie!

He's splendid discipline for my temper, for he can be the most exasperating boy I ever saw. I suppose I'm just as exasperating, though," she added honestly.

"Is that four o'clock?" asked Ruth suddenly. "Dear me, I must go, though I'd much rather stay here. Your chocolate is great, Dolly, and those nice little wafers were perfect with it."

"I hate to have you go, but I'll walk over with you just to get a little more air," said Dolly, settling her fur turban on her blonde locks. "Now we must go down softly, for Miss Cynthia may still be here. I dare say Frank is somewhere about, and mother can get him to take her home," she added, as if she half felt the need of an apology. "I'm sure it's his turn to go, anyway."