r
little Miss Penelope, all unsuspecting, returned to her post.

"You really must get up, Sister Molly," that lady said resolutely,
renewing an altercation. "I hid the pantry keys under your chair
cushions at supper, last night. That's always the safest place. But I
forgot to take them out before you sat down. And you must get up--there
isn't enough sugar for the coffee."

"Let me," said Ruth, coming forward with a smile, in her pretty, coaxing
way.

When the antagonism between the sisters broke into open hostility, it
was nearly always she who managed to soothe them and restore a temporary
semblance of peace--for beyond that no mortal power could go. She now
prevailed upon the widow Broadnax to rise with her assistance, thus
securing the keys, and when that lady was once on her feet she was
easier to move, so that Ruth now led her to her place at the breakfast
table without further trouble. There was, however, always more or less
trouble about the place itself. It was but woman nature to feel it to be
very hard for a whole sister to sit at the side of the table while a
half sister sat at its head. The judge always did what he could to spare
her feelings, and Miss Penelope's at the same time. He was a bachelor,
and held women in the half-gallant, half-humorous regard which sets the
bachelor apart from the married man, and places him at a disadvantage
which he is commonly unaware of. The judge thought he understood the
distinctively feminine weaknesses particularly well, and that he made
uncommonly large allowance for them, as the bachelor always thinks and
never does. And then when the quarrel reached a crisis, and he was
entirely at the end of his resources for keeping the peace, he could
always threaten to take to the woods, and that usually brought a short
truce.

"Ruth, my dear, what's all this about some stranger's bringing you home
last night?" he inquired, taking his seat at the foot of the table.
"Where were you, William? and what were you doing? You shouldn't have
taken Ruth to such a place, or anywhere, if you couldn't take care of
her," with unusual severity.

Ruth sprang to William's defence. She said that it was not his fault.
They were separated by the crowd. He had done his best, and all that any
one could have done.

"I made William take me. He didn't want to do it. And I am not sorry
that I went, although I was so much frightened at the time. Without
seeing it, no one can ever know what this str