ght. He said
rather sternly that she must come to the house at once, and she turned
obediently, following the motion of his hand rather than the meaning of
his words. He spoke to David also, without looking at the boy, but she
was clinging to him and hiding her face on his arm whenever the
lightning flashed, and did not notice what he had said until he repeated
his words:--

"You have of course brought back the doeskin string."

Ruth suddenly lifted her face from his arm, loosed her grasp upon it and
stood away from him. Yet in that first dazed instant she could not
believe that she had heard aright. It was impossible for her, being what
she was, to understand that he had never in all his life done anything
more true to his nature, more thoroughly characteristic, than to ask
this question at such a time. She forgot the lightning while she waited
till he asked it for the third time. And then, straining her incredulous
ears again, she heard the boy murmur something, and she saw him
hurriedly and confusedly searching his pockets for the string.

"I can't find it," he stammered. "I must have dropped it when I poured
out the wheat. I am so sorry--I will go to-morrow--"

"You will go now;" said William, calmly. "The string will be lost by
to-morrow. And then," judicially, "you will remember a needed lesson
better if you go at once."

"William!" burst out Ruth almost with a scream. "You can't mean what you
say. Listen to the roar of the coming storm. It's almost here. Surely
you don't know what you are saying. Send David through the deadening in
the very teeth of a tempest like this, for a bit of string!"

"Come to the house, my dear. It is beginning to rain. I am afraid you
will take cold. You, sir, will go back at once," turning to the boy.
"You know, of course, that the string itself is of no importance in this
matter. It is absurd to speak of such a thing. But it is my duty to
teach you, as far as I can, to perform yours. I tell you again to go at
once. That is all I have to say, I believe, concerning this matter.
Come, Ruth, it is beginning to rain."

She shrunk away from his hand as if its touch horrified her. Her tears
were falling faster than the heavy, isolated drops that fell on her bare
head. But her courage was rising at need, as it always rose, and she was
not too much blinded by tears to see that the boy was getting on the
pony again. She ran to him and caught his sleeve, and turned upon
William Pressley