Ruth was no
exception; it amused the ladies to watch her cuddle the child and wonder
aloud at all her baby-talk.

Will was her next favorite satellite. A young girl with a winsome,
sympathetic face, and hearty manner, can easily become the confidante of
a fine fellow of fourteen. Will, with his arm tucked through hers, would
saunter around after dusk and tell her all his ambitions.

The soft, starry evenings up in the mountains, where heaven seems so
near, are just the time for such talk.

They were walking thus one evening toward the river, Ruth in a creamy
gown and with a white burnous thrown over her head, Will holding his hat
in his hand and letting the sweet air play through his hair, as he loved
to do.

"What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?" asked the
boy suddenly.

"Well, law is one--" she began.

"That's the way Papa begins," he interrupted impatiently; "but I'll tell
you what I think is the greatest. Guess, now."

"The ministry?" she ventured.

"Oh, of course; but I'm not good enough for that,--that takes
exceptions. Guess again."

"Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery,--that is it. You would be a
brave soldier, Willikins, my man."

"No, sir," he replied, flinging back his head; "I don't want to take
lives; I want to save them."

"You mean a physician, Will?"

"That's it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon. Don't you think that
takes bravery? And it's a long sight better than being a soldier; he
draws blood to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?"

"Indeed, you are right," she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to
descent the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came
suddenly upon them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth
gaping wide.

When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.

"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed.

The man's mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.

"Begging your pardon, Miss,--I mean Her pardon,--the Lord forgive me, I
took you for the Lady Madonna and the blessed Boy with the shining hair.
Now, don't be telling of me, will you?"

"Indeed, we won't; we'll keep the pretty compliment to ourselves. Have
you the mail? I wonder if there is a letter for me."

Ben immediately drew out his little pack, and handed her two. It was
still light enough to read; and as Ben moved on, she stood and opened
them.

"This," she annou