with tiny rosebuds, and finished off here and there with knots
and bows of rose-coloured ribbon; a simple holland dress trimmed with
white braid, and a shady straw hat with bows of lace and a tiny bunch of
rosebuds. Ruth gazed at the garments with admiration and astonishment,
then she glanced at her own shabby print frock, blushed rosy red, and
the tears began to gather in her eyes.

"What is the matter, Ruth? Do you not like them?" asked her aunt kindly.

"They are very pretty, and you are very kind, auntie; but I would rather
not wear them," said the girl, trying hard to repress the tears of
mortification that stood in her eyes.

"But, my dear, they have been bought on purpose for you to wear at the
sea-side. Do at least try them."

"Thank you, auntie, I would much rather not do so;" and Ruth turned
aside to the window, from which she could see nothing for the mist
before her eyes caused by the storm of passion and pride surging within
her breast.

There was no reply, and when she looked round again she found that she
was alone. The sunshine was streaming into the room, shining upon the
white hat and the pretty dresses, just such garments as Ruth would have
chosen if she had had an opportunity of buying such a stock of clothes
for herself. But she remembered Julia's words and manner the previous
morning, and felt so proud and angry that she deliberately shut her eyes
as she walked out of the room, and gave not a thought to her aunt's
kindness.

"It is too bad! I'll not stand it!" she murmured. "I did not come here
to be treated like a poor relation. If they don't like me as I am, I
will go home again. Yes, I'll go and tell auntie so at once," she
continued, her pride rising higher and higher until she reached the
bay-windowed drawing-room where her aunt was sitting with Ernest. She
did not observe his presence, but went straight to her aunt, her cheeks
crimson and her eyes flashing.

"Aunt Annie," she said as calmly as her emotion would permit, "Aunt
Annie, I think that I had better go home."

"My dear child, what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Woburn, dropping her
work in her amazement.

"I think that if you don't like me as I am, I had better go home," she
repeated.

"What do you mean?" asked her aunt, still more perplexed; while Ernest
looked up from his book and inquired, "Has Julia been annoying her?"

"No," said Ruth; "but, oh, auntie! I can't bear to be--a poor relation,
and--and have clothes given m