your father, Ruth).
My money would not have been sufficient to start another business, but
your father came to our help, and offered to lend his share of the
money. Then my husband was able to start again, and prospered. All his
creditors were paid in full long ago, and my brother's money was repaid
with interest, though nothing, I am sure, can ever repay his kindness in
lending it to us at that particular time, for I fear that he must have
been straitened for years by his generous deed. Now you understand,
Ruth, why I told you that everything I gave you had been more than paid
for long ago, though I did not know that it would be necessary to tell
you how."

Ruth was silent and thoughtful. Her aunt's words gave her the clue to
many things which she had never been able to comprehend. She guessed now
why her father sometimes looked regretfully at a large and excellent
farm a short distance from his own.

"You ought to have taken that farm," she had once heard a neighbour
remark to him.

"Ah! the time for that is gone by," was his reply.

She believed now that the opportunity of taking it had occurred while
the money was embarked in her uncle's business, and that when it was
free the farm and the family had soon absorbed it, for the land was not
very good, and there had been several bad harvests lately.

"Why did you never tell me before?" asked Julia peevishly, from the
sofa.

"Why, dear? Well, you know it is never pleasant to talk about our
failures. Your father has not referred to the subject, even to me, for
years, and I could see that he was exceedingly annoyed by your mention
of it just now. You were but an infant at the time, and it is so long
ago that it seemed to have been forgotten. But I have looked back
sometimes since we have grown rich, and thought with pleasure of my
brother's kindness."

"Still it is true," whined Julia, "and," she added passionately, "I can
never look at Ethel Thompson or any of the girls again."

"That is very silly," said her mother.

"Indeed I cannot--never--_never_, and I am the most wretched girl in
England, and shall never be happy again!"

Her sobs were renewed with redoubled violence, and she looked really ill
from vexation and passion. Mrs. Woburn gave her some cooling medicine
and persuaded her to go to bed.

But Ruth did not pity her cousin. She worked alone at her lessons that
evening, and when the thought of Julia crossed her mind her lips
tightened and she said