"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 ap.r.o.n 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.

It was with a little smile that she looked up at Ellen, who was anxiously waiting for her answer, and said, "I'll go down, of course; I should be a selfish pig not to when you are all so good to me."

"That's a darlin," cried Ellen much relieved. "And would you please try to make him feel that it's a great favor to you for him to come down? You know the men have to be managed a bit," she added slyly.

Ruth made a hasty dinner toilet by running a comb through her waving locks, patting the big bow at the back of her head, and putting on a fresh collar. Then she went slowly downstairs, wishing she knew just what to say to Arthur.

To her relief he looked up from the paper he was reading and said just as if they had been meeting every day for the past two weeks, "I'm sure this report makes it seem worse than it is, Ruth. I don't believe there is any real reason for you to worry about your father."

"Do you really think so? I suppose it's foolish to worry, but it's pretty hard when he's so far away and I haven't heard for so long."

There was a suspicious quaver in her voice that made Arthur's thoughts turn longingly to the safe shelter of his own room. What if he should have a weeping girl on his hands! He turned cold at the thought. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get some word from your father before morning," he said with such anxious haste that quick-witted Ruth guessed at once what he was dreading.

"You think I'm going to cry, but I'm not," she announced with great dignity. "I hate to cry before people anyway, and I specially wouldn't before a boy."

"Good for you! I wouldn't cry before a boy either," answered Arthur with a twinkle in his eye, and then they both laughed and felt better.

"It was good of you to come down to dinner tonight," said Ruth as they began on their soup. "If I'd been alone I shouldn't have been able to keep my mind off that awful newspaper heading for a minute."

"We can telephone in town after a while and find out what they know at the steamship company's office. I can't help feeling, though, that the newspaper report is very likely exaggerated."

Ruth felt much comforted by this masculine view of the situation, and racked her brain to think up some interesting subjects for conversation, for she wanted to show him that girls could be calm and self-possessed even under the most trying circ.u.mstances.

"Are you fond of football?" she asked suddenly, when the long silence was getting on her nerves, and she felt that she must say something. Before he could answer, it flashed across her mind with painful distinctness that it was at football that Arthur had been injured. The color flashed into her cheeks, and she unconsciously looked so appealingly at Arthur that he came to the rescue at once.

"Of course I am," he a.s.serted stoutly. "It's a great old game, and we've got some ripping good players in Glenloch. You ought to see some of the Sat.u.r.day games."

"I should love to," she responded with a fervor that showed her relief, and then silence fell again. Ruth was in despair. With athletics cut out, what could she talk about to a boy, particularly when she was anxious to avoid any reference to anything which would make her think of her father?

"I'm reading a great book now," said Arthur, whose thoughts for the last few minutes had been much the same as Ruth's, and who felt that if he didn't say something soon he never should.

"Oh, what is it? Tell me about it," said Ruth, with such touching anxiety to help the conversation along that Arthur chuckled silently.

"It's one of Clark Russell's sea stories, and I've just left my hero in such an exciting situation that I can hardly wait to see how he is coming out."

It was Ruth's turn to feel amused now. "Too bad that you had to stop to eat dinner with a mere girl, isn't it?" she said saucily.

Arthur laughed. "I was getting so hungry and thirsty out there in mid-ocean with my hero, waiting for a sail to turn up, that I really needed my dinner. Jiminy! it must be awful to have anything happen to you on the ocean," he continued absent-mindedly; "you must feel so awfully far away from every one and so helpless."

"Oh, please don't," cried Ruth with such real terror in her voice that Arthur woke suddenly to a realization of what he'd been saying.

"Of all stupid numskulls!" he said impatiently. "Look here, Ruth, you can cry if you want to after that, and I won't say a word. I deserve some punishment for being such a forgetful idiot."

Ruth couldn't help laughing at his penitent expression. "I don't want to cry any more than you want me to. And you're not a forgetful idiot any more than I am. Let's call it square," she ended significantly.

"All right, and I'll stand up for girls from now on."

"Will you do me a favor?"

"Anything, fair lady, that you may see fit to ask," replied Arthur dramatically.

"Then come down to your meals every day," demanded Ruth, inwardly quaking, but outwardly calm and innocent looking.

Arthur looked as if he were about to protest, but changed his mind and said firmly, "I never go back on my word, so I'll do it."

Fearing to spoil her victory by saying anything more, Ruth rose from the table and walked into the hall, leaving Arthur to follow more slowly. Just as she did so, the bell rang, a sharp, clear peal, and Katie hurried to the door to return in a second with a yellow envelope, and a small book for Ruth to sign.

Ruth's hands shook with excitement as she tried to use the stub of a pencil, and she felt grateful when Arthur took book and all from her saying gently, "You open your cablegram; I'll sign the book."

Ruth was actually pale as she tore open the envelope, but the color came back to her cheeks as she read the one word written there. "It says 'sound,'" she cried exultantly, "and papa said that one word could mean everything I wanted it to mean. That he is well, and has had a pleasant voyage, and has arrived safely. Oh, I am so happy.

It's good news! The best of news, Ellen," she added, as the good soul's beaming face appeared in the doorway. "Oh, I can't keep still," and catching Ellen around her ma.s.sive waist, Ruth almost whirled her off her feet in a wild dance of joy.

"Miss Ruth, Miss Ruth, darlin', behave yourself," protested Ellen, who like other unwieldy objects went on from sheer momentum when once started. "How can you expect a fat old thing like me to dance?"

"Oh, Ellen, that did me heaps of good," and Ruth sank panting into a chair, while Arthur laughed as he had never expected to laugh again, and Ellen tried to look cross, but failed in the attempt.

There was a quick rattle of a key in the lock, and the door opened suddenly to admit Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. Their surprise as they surveyed the jolly group was funny to see, and Ruth and Arthur went off into a fresh fit of mirth, while Ellen slipped shamefacedly into the kitchen.

"We gave up our dinner party, and came home," said Mrs. Hamilton, "because we were afraid that Ruth would be worried about--" She stopped suddenly, realizing too late that there was no need of telling Ruth why she should be worried, since evidently she didn't know.

"Oh, I am dreadfully--I mean I was," cried Ruth incoherently, "and I don't know what I should have done if Ellen hadn't comforted me, and Arthur hadn't come down to dinner. But it's all right now, for my cablegram says 'sound,' and that means everything good."

"So it does, so it does, little girl," said Mr. Hamilton, much relieved. "It makes you as happy as it makes me feel to see this tall boy of mine down here. Got back to us for keeps now, Arthur?"

he asked, as he put his arm around his son's shoulder with a smile that went straight to the boy's heart.