"I am afraid I did," laughed his brother. "But what else was there for me to do? I knew no way in which I might help, as Flora did."

"That's so," rejoined Alec, in a relieved tone, willing to share in his brother's self-absolution.

"Of course neither of you could have done anything, for you did not know Ruth. But tell me, what will be best to do?" asked Flora, pausing with a dish she was carrying to the table.

"I know," said Harry. "To-morrow is Sat.u.r.day and market day also, and we all can go and see Major Joe in his stall, and tell him what we have heard, and what we think. If he is interested, one of us can stay at his stall while he goes and sees Ruth."

"How glad he will be; and how glad I am," said Flora. "It would be dreadful for Ruth and poor little Jem to be left with no one to take care of them."

Thus the question was decided.

The next morning Major Joe was surprised by a visit from all three of his young friends, and none the less delighted to see them, however, because they came unexpectedly, and he gave them a hearty welcome. It was understood beforehand that Flora was to be the one to open the subject, and explain matters. She did not tell everything at once, as Alec thought she ought to do, but approached the object of their visit in a delicate way.

"Major Joe; guess what brought us here to-day."

"I'm sure I can't say," answered the old man, rubbing his rough hands together, with a beaming smile. "Maybe to see your old friend?"

"To be sure; we're always glad to do that," replied Flora, as she placed the little bunches of parsley and thyme in more perfect order. "We have come for something else. Something very important," she added, seeing that Major Joe had no curiosity as to the nature of their errand with him.

"What would you say if I told you we had found somebody who belongs to you?"

"To me?" queried the puzzled man. "I don't see how you could do that."

"Yes, but I have," said Flora. "I am sure of it."

The old major shook his head doubtingly.

"And I want you to come with me and see if what I said is not true,"

persisted Flora, coaxingly.

"But how can I?" questioned Major Joe in reply. "I cannot leave my stall--who would wait on my customers?"

"Why not let me take charge until you return," asked Harry, speaking for the first time.

"And I can help," added Alec.

"Now you see it's all fixed," said Flora.

"Surely you're not afraid to trust us, are you?" asked Harry, as he saw his old friend still undecided.

"No, no; it's not that, my boy; only----"

"Only nothing," interrupted Flora, laughingly. "You must come, so say no more about it." And she caught his arm and led him away, an unwilling and unbelieving captive.

Ruth opened the door in answer to Flora's gentle tap. The latter could no longer restrain her impatience.

"Now, Major Joe," she exclaimed, softly, for fear of disturbing the sick man, "whom does this little sobersides remind you of?"

At first the old man looked from one to the other in a bewildered manner. Then his eyes rested on Ruth's face long and attentively. The tears gathered, and he involuntarily held out his hand, and said, softly, "Ruthie."

Scarcely realizing what she was doing, Ruth, probably drawn by the tender, loving tone that touched her heart, put her own in it.

"Who is she? What does it all mean?" asked the major, looking helplessly at Flora.

"It means," answered Flora, softly, "that this is truly Ruthie. Not your own Ruth, but her daughter and namesake--your grand-daughter Ruth."

"Is that so? Are you sure? Don't say so if you ain't," pleaded the old man. And then the thought flashed across Flora's mind that perhaps after all she was mistaken, and had only brought her old friend there to be disappointed.

"Ruth dear," she said, dropping into a chair, weakened by the very thought, "tell him--tell him all about yourself; your mother's name, and everything. Do, please, quick!"

Ruth told the history of her dead mother's life, as she had heard it from her own lips.

Eagerly Major Joe listened, and when she was through, he held out his arms to her, saying:

"You are my poor Ruth's daughter," and the tears prevented him from adding more. Ruth and Flora wiped their eyes in sympathy: Ruth rejoicing in the possession of a grandfather; Flora, that provision was thus made for Ruth.

This tearful trio was interrupted a moment later by the entrance of Jem, carrying her doll under one arm, and her beloved Pokey under the other.

"Why, Ruth Rudd, I'm extonished at you, hugging a old market man!" and Jem looked at her sister with unbounded disapproval.

"Hush Jem, you must not talk so," said Ruth. "This is our grandfather."

"Not mine," returned matter-of-fact Jem, standing still in the middle of the room, and looking suspiciously at the visitor. "Not mine. I never had any, and don't want one."

"Who is this?" asked Major Joe, looking at the defiant little figure dubiously.

"She is my half-sister," answered Ruth.

"Well, well," said her grandfather, "she ain't Ruth's child, so I've no call to take her when I take you, Ruth. Her father can send her to his own people."

"Then, grandfather, I cannot go with you," said Ruth, sadly, but firmly.

"I will never leave Jem."

"Ruth, you're not going to leave me, are you?" cried the little girl.

"No, indeed, dear, I shall not leave you. It was not very nice for you to speak of grandpa as you did just now. You should always be polite to an old person. Remember this, Jem."

"I don't care," said Jem, defiantly. "He's horrid. He wants to take you away, and you're all I've got 'cept father, and--and he's going to die,"

she sobbed, hiding her face in Ruth's arms.

"Don't cry, Jem. I will not leave my little sister. What could I do without you?"

"No, no, little one, Ruth's grandfather won't part you, if you're so fond of each other." And the major came over and patted the sobbing child's head, soothingly. His was too tender a heart to withstand the sight of a child in distress, so it was soon settled that he was to be Jem's grandfather also, which arrangement was accepted by the little girl as readily as she had rejected the idea a moment before.

Then the major, his heart made very tender by memories of the past, was ready to visit the invalid.

John Rudd had always been a quiet man, but willful and determined to succeed in whatever he undertook. He was not bad at heart, and when a wrong act was committed it was invariably caused by obstinacy. He usually quickly repented of his course, and made all reparation in his power.