Lavender and Old Lace

"You have a great many beautiful things."

"Yes," she answered softly, "they were given to me by a--a friend."

"She must have had a great many," observed Ruth, admiring one of the

rugs.

A delicate pink suffused Miss Ainslie's face. "My friend," she said,

with quiet dignity, "is a seafaring gentleman."

That explained the rugs, Ruth thought, and the vase, of finest

Cloisonne, which stood upon the mantel-shelf. It accounted also for the

bertha of Mechlin lace, which was fastened to Miss Ainslie's gown, of

lavender cashmere, by a large amethyst inlaid with gold and surrounded

by baroque pearls.

For some little time, they talked of Miss Hathaway and her travels. "I

told her she was too old to go," said Miss Ainslie,. smiling, "but she

assured me that she could take care of herself, and I think she can.

Even if she couldn't, she is perfectly safe. These 'personally conducted'

parties are by far the best, if one goes alone, for the first time."

Ruth knew that, but she was surprised, nevertheless. "Won't you tell me

about my aunt, Miss Ainslie?" she asked. "You know I've never seen her."

"Why, yes, of course I will! Where shall I begin?"

"At the beginning," answered Ruth, with a little laugh.

"The beginning is very far away, deary," said Miss Ainslie, and Ruth

fancied she heard a sigh. "She came here long before I did, and we were

girls together. She lived in the old house at the top of the hill, with

her father and mother, and I lived here with mine. We were very intimate

for a long time, and then we had a quarrel, about something that was

so silly and foolish that I cannot even remember what it was. For five

years--no, for almost six, we passed each other like strangers, because

each was too proud and stubborn to yield. But death, and trouble,

brought us together again."

"Who spoke first," asked Ruth, much interested, "you or Aunt Jane?"

"It was I, of course. I don't believe she would have done it. She was

always stronger than I, and though I can't remember the cause of the

quarrel, I can feel the hurt to my pride, even at this day."

"I know," answered Ruth, quickly, "something of the same kind once

happened to me, only it wasn't pride that held me back--it was just

plain stubbornness. Sometimes I am conscious of two selves--one of me

is a nice, polite person that I'm really fond of, and the other is so

contrary and so mulish that I'm actually afraid of her. When the two

come in conflict, the stubborn one always wins. I'm sorry, but I can't

help it."

"Don't you think we're all like that?" asked Miss Ainslie, readily

understanding. "I do not believe any one can have strength of character

without being stubborn. To hold one's position in the face of obstacles,

and never be tempted to yield--to me, that seems the very foundation."