ng
to make Ruth scream by pointing his finger in her direction, when he was
in a teasing mood, it was extremely annoying to have her suspect him of
such intentions when his conscience was altogether clear, when indeed,
with Peggy as a witness, he had solemnly renounced all such diversions
forever. "What are you making such a fuss about?" he insisted, as Ruth
did not answer.

"You were going to tickle me."

"Nothing of the sort. Oh, say! The rest of those cakes are burning up.
Peggy, you'd better get somebody to help you who will attend to her
business."

Peggy saved the situation by telling Graham he could take in the hash,
and that there was so much batter that a few scorched cakes would never
be missed. "You carry in the coffee,--will you, Ruth?" said Peggy, and
improved the opportunity to resume her former position by the griddle.
Ruth understood the manoeuvre, and her heart swelled. Evidently Peggy
thought she couldn't do anything right, not even turn a griddle-cake
when it was brown. And Graham was actually cross. She began to think it
did not pay to be heroic in order to spare the feelings of such
inconsiderate people.

Poor Ruth could not eat. She sipped her coffee and played with her fork,
expecting every moment that some one would notice that her food had not
been touched and inquire the reason. To tell the truth, Ruth had reached
the point where she would not have been averse to such an inquiry, and
the attendant necessity of explanation. It was much pleasanter, she had
decided, to have people know you were feeling sick, and trying to be
brave about it, than to suffer in heroic silence, sustained only by your
own sense of virtue. But, to her surprise and disappointment, no
questions were asked. The gay party surrounding the breakfast-table was
too engrossed with satisfying clamorous appetites, and discussing the
day's program, to notice that one of the number was not eating. This
confirmed Ruth's impression, that it was, after all, a selfish, if not a
heartless world.

"Now, Peggy," began Priscilla, when the last plate of golden-brown cakes
had failed to melt away after the fashion of their predecessors, "nobody
can eat another thing. As long as you got the breakfast, Ruth and I will
wash the dishes."

"And Claire and I will make the beds," said Amy, "while Peggy attends to
the menagerie." Amy had always continued the disrespectful custom of
referring to Peggy's poultry yard as the menagerie.

"It wo