thought Ruth as she slipped her letter into the envelope, sealed it and stamped it. "Now for lunch and then my ride."

"Isn't he a beauty, Arthur?" called Ruth, coming out on the piazza in all the glory of her dark-blue habit, high boots and gauntlet gloves.

Arthur, who had a pocketful of sugar and was dividing it impartially between the two horses, turned at the sound of the voice and gave her an approving glance.

"He certainly is," he answered, "and he's going to have a very swell-looking rider, too. I like that blue dress and that neat little hat."

"Glad you're suited," laughed Ruth. "He ought to have a name; do think up a nice name right off now so that I can have something to call him this afternoon."

"I like your way of ordering me to think up things on the moment,"

protested Arthur in an aggrieved tone.

"Of course you like it. Do think quick, because Uncle Henry is just ready to start."

"Peter Pan," suggested Arthur. "And then he'll never grow old and bony and lame."

"Clever boy," said Ruth approvingly as they started off. "That name suits me exactly. Can't you just see him doing a shadow dance with me on his back?"

Arthur watched them until a curve in the road hid them from sight.

Then as he started toward the house a familiar voice hailed him, and he turned to see Dr. Holland looking at him with approving eyes.

"Pretty nice looking pair of riders, aren't they? Why don't you go in for that sort of thing, my boy?"

"I shall just as soon as you say I can, doctor."

"Go ahead then, with my blessing. You've always been so used to riding that the exercise will be the best thing in the world for you. Leg still pain you any?"

"A little, but it's growing stronger every day."

"Well, keep it up, young man, and you'll come out all right," said the doctor heartily as he drove off, leaving Arthur to find his mother and tell her the good news.

In the meantime Ruth and Mr. Hamilton were riding at an easy pace down the road past the old mill. It was a rare day for March. The snow had been gone for a fortnight, and to-day the air and sunshine were full of promises of spring.

To Ruth the ride was a perfect delight. She was happy because the sun shone, and because fleecy clouds were chasing each other across a blue sky. She loved the hint of spring in the air, and the fresh breeze which blew over the lake. Most of all she delighted in Peter Pan, who responded to her slightest touch, and flew over the ground so smoothly and surely that fear was impossible.

As they rounded the lake and came out on the side nearest the centre of the town, Ruth saw a house which seemed strangely familiar to her.

"Why, it's Mrs. Perrier's house, and there's Marie out on the porch," she said in great surprise. "I haven't seen it from this side before and I didn't know it at first. Do you think we might stop and see Marie for just a few minutes? I haven't been to see her for two weeks, and I'm afraid she'll think I'm neglecting her."

Mr. Hamilton looked at his watch. "Yes, we shall have time to make a short call on that sunshiny porch and still get you back in time for Miss Burton."

Marie was sitting in a steamer chair, well wrapped up, and so absorbed in her work that she saw nothing of her guests until they were almost at her side. When she looked up a warm color flushed her pale cheeks, and she tried to conceal the sheet of paper on which she had been working.

"This is Mr. Hamilton, Marie, and this is my friend, Marie Borel, Uncle Henry," said Ruth quickly. "You two should be very good friends, for Uncle Henry's just been telling me how fond he is of Switzerland."

"Ah, do you love my country?" cried Marie, all her embarra.s.sment forgotten. "It ees so good to hear that; I am sometimes so homeseeck for my mountains."

"Indeed I do love your mountains and your lakes and the good people who live there," responded Mr. Hamilton with a warmth that delighted Marie's homesick heart.

"But I must speak to my aunt," said Marie struggling to rise from her many wraps. "You will perhaps come into the house." "No, sit still, and I'll tell Mrs. Perrier we're here," urged Ruth. "We can stay only a few minutes, and we like to sit here in the sunshine."

She disappeared into the house, and while she was gone Mr. Hamilton set himself to the pleasant task of getting acquainted with the shy girl whose wonderful dark eyes looked so confidingly at him.

It needed only a few sympathetic questions to induce her to tell him of the little town nestled at the foot of the Jura Mountains, of the sparkling lake on which she used to look from her chamber window, and of the Jungfrau, seventy miles away, but seeming so near in clear weather.

"I know just where your old home is, Marie," he said kindly, when, in her pretty, broken English, she had pictured her birthplace to him. "I don't wonder that you are homesick, for even I often long for a sight of those beautiful mountains."

"It gives me much good to talk of them to some one who knows how beautiful they are," answered Marie simply. "But here comes Miss Ruth, and--"

"Now, Marie, don't you scold me," interrupted Ruth gaily. "I just couldn't help bringing out your lace pillow and your embroidery for Uncle Henry to see."

"Oh, a gentleman," laughed Marie, "a gentleman, he does not care for fine st.i.tches."

"There, isn't that beautiful, Uncle Henry?" persisted Ruth. "And what do you think? I've learned to make a very simple pattern."

"You don't say so!" said Uncle Henry, much impressed. "Couldn't you--couldn't you make me something to wear?"

"What shall it be?" laughed Ruth. "I'll tell you. If you'll promise to have a black velvet suit and wear it to the office every day, I'll make you a large lace collar to wear with it."

"I'll let you know when I leave the order for the suit. It will be time enough to begin. on the collar then," answered Mr. Hamilton, much amused at the idea. "I'm afraid we must be saying good-bye to Marie now," he added with a glance at his watch, "or you won't have any time to rest before starting out again."

But just then Mrs. Perrier came out on the porch carrying a tray, and nothing would do but that Mr. Hamilton and Ruth must taste her home-made grape-juice, and the little cakes made from a recipe she had brought from Switzerland. They were almost as thin as paper, and so deliciously crisp and toothsome-looking that Ruth couldn't resist them.

"Oh, Uncle Henry," she cried impulsively, "I am so hungry: and you have a hungry look, too, hasn't he, Marie? Never mind if we don't get home quite so soon; I can rest while I'm eating."

"Just as you say, my dear," answered Mr. Hamilton with proper meekness.

He was having an unusual and interesting experience himself, and didn't in the least mind staying.

The little lunch was delicious, and Ruth sighed as she finished the last cake she felt she could possibly eat. Mr. Hamilton stooped to pick up his whip before saying good-bye, and as he did so dislodged a book which was tucked into the steamer chair. It fell to the floor, and a paper fluttered out of it and floated almost to Ruth's feet. She picked it up to return it, but her eye was caught by a pencil sketch which stood out boldly.

"Why, Marie," she cried in astonishment, "did you draw this? It's that little piece of the sh.o.r.e of the lake that I've been looking at while I've sat here. Do let me show it to Uncle Henry."

"Eet ees nothing," faltered Marie, full of shy embarra.s.sment. "I cannot make eet look as I see eet."

Mr. Hamilton studied the little sketch with kindly, critical eyes.

Then he apparently forgot that there was need to hurry, for to Ruth's surprise he sat down again by Marie's chair, saying earnestly: "Have you more sketches in that book I knocked down, child? Let me see them if you have."

His manner was so serious, so compelling, that Marie gave him the book without a word. There were sketches in pencil and sketches in water-color. Those in the first part of the book were tiny drawings of the interior of Mrs. Perrier's house, with now and again that smiling woman herself in a characteristic pose. Once in a while there was a sketch in color of mountains, lake and sky done evidently from memory. All crude and faulty, but showing so much strength, so much individuality and color-sense, that Mr. Hamilton turned the leaves of the little book again and again, and finally laid it down reluctantly, saying:

"If I only had time, Marie, I should like to talk them all over with you. There is so much promise in them that you must keep on trying; you must study as soon as you are strong enough."

"I am so glad that you think I am not wasting my time when I do such things," she answered wistfully. "They will never look as I want them to look, but I cannot help trying. I shall hope to study some day."

Marie walked to where the horses were tied to show Ruth how much she had improved, and as they turned to wave a last good-bye to her Mr. Hamilton said impressively, "Ruth, do you know we've discovered a genius there. I firmly believe that girl will make a name for herself some day. We must help her."

"I should like to," answered Ruth, who all the way home seemed to be in a brown study.