nor was caught paying a round
of visits to the children's bedrooms--"just in time," as Ruth thought
whimsically, "to waken the poor souls from their first sleep!"--and
escorted back to the chair which Mollie had vacated.

"Is anything wrong, dear?" she asked nervously. Poor little woman, if a
surprise were in store, it seemed so much more likely that it should be
disagreeable rather than bright! "You don't feel feverish, or ill,
or--"

"No, no, my dear; I just want to talk to you about my own affairs. I'm
quite well, and so strong and--and grown-up, don't you know, that it is
time I grew independent, and began life on my own account. You have
Mollie at home, and Trix and Betty growing up, and I think, mother dear,
that I ought not to be dependent on the pater any longer. He has been
very good and kind to us all these years; but, still--"

She hesitated, and Mrs Connor looked at her with anxious tenderness.
She had honestly considered the welfare of her two little girls as much
as her own when she decided to marry a second time, and it had been a
constant joy to feel that her expectations had been fulfilled; yet here
was Ruth, her firstborn darling, her right hand in household affairs,
actually talking of leaving home!

"Aren't you happy, Ruth? Have you not been happy all these years? I
thought you were quite content and satisfied."

She sighed; and Ruth gave an echoing sigh, and answered honestly--

"Quite happy, darling, as far as you and the pater are concerned. He
could not have been kinder to us if we had been his very own daughters.
But satisfied? Oh no, mother; never satisfied for a long time back!
How could I be? I don't want to seem ungrateful; but I'm only twenty-
one, and it has been all work and no play, and there are so many, many
things that I want to do, and see, and feel. I've never been to a
proper grown-up dance in my life, for if we have been asked we have not
had decent clothes to go in, and we never invite anyone here, so now
people have given over asking us even to quiet evenings. I hardly ever
speak to a soul outside this house, and I get so tired of it all;--and
only fifteen pounds a year for dress and pocket-money! Remember what
your allowance was when you were a girl, and all the jolly times you
had, and the parties, and the visits, and the trips abroad,--and then
think of our lives. It _is_ dull for us, isn't it, dear?"

Mrs Connor's pale cheeks flushed with a touch of offe