d to be gratifyingly sure that Bob
Martin wanted her--and then she wanted affairs to stand still at that
pleasant pass, while she played about and invited adventure.

Life was so desirable as it was . . . especially with Bob Martin in the
scene. But if he were unsatisfied he wouldn't remain there as part of
the adjacent landscape.

Bob was no pursuing Lochinvar.

It was very delicate. She couldn't explain all her hesitation
satisfactorily to herself, so she had made rather a poor job of it when
she tried to explain to Bob.

Part of it was young unreadiness for the decisions and responsibilities
of life, part of it was reprehensible aversion about shutting the door
to other adventures, and part of it was her native energy, as yet
unemployed, aware of a larger world and anxious to play some undivined
part in its destinies.

She had always been furious that the war had come too soon for her. She
would have loved to have gone over there, and known the mud and
doughnuts and doughboys . . . and the excitement and the officers. . . .

But Bob wasn't going to dangle much longer. He hadn't a doubt but that
everything was all right and he was in haste to taste the assurance.

And Ruth wasn't going to lose him.

These hesitations of hers would convey nothing to his youthful
masculinity but that she didn't care enough. And his was not the age
that appreciates the temporizing half loaf.

So that trip up the mountain meant for them much youthful discussion,
much searching of wills and hearts and motives, a threatening gloom upon
his part, and a struggling defensiveness upon hers.

Small wonder that Maria Angelina and her companion were not remembered!

It was not until she was at the very top of old Baldy, and again a part
of the general group that Ruth had the thought to look about her and
recognize her cousin's absence.

"They _are_ taking their time," she remarked to Bob.

"Glad they're enjoying it," he gave back with a disgruntled air that
Ruth determinedly ignored.

"I guess Ri-Ri's no good at a climb," she said. "This little old
mountain must have got her."

"Oh, Johnny's strong right arm will do the work," he returned
indifferently.

"But they ought to be here now. You don't suppose they missed the way?"
Mrs. Blair, overhearing, suggested, and turned to look down the steep
path that they had come.

Bob scouted the idea of such a mishap.

"Johnny knows his way about. They'll be along when they feel like i