"Miss Thorne," said Hepsey, from the doorway of Ruth's room, "that
feller's here again." There was an unconscious emphasis on the last
word, and Ruth herself was somewhat surprised, for she had not expected
another call so soon.
"He's a-settin' 'n in the parlour," continued Hepsey, "when he ain't
a-walkin' around it and wearin' out the carpet. I didn't come up when
he first come, on account of my pie crust bein' all ready to put in the
oven."
"How long has he been here?" asked Ruth, dabbing a bit of powder on her
nose and selecting a fresh collar.
"Oh, p'raps half an hour."
"That isn't right, Hepsey; when anyone comes you must tell me
immediately. Never mind the pie crust next time." Ruth endeavoured to
speak kindly, but she was irritated at the necessity of making another
apology.
When she went down, Winfield dismissed her excuses with a comprehensive
wave of the hand. "I always have to wait when I go to call on a girl,"
he said; "it's one of the most charming vagaries of the ever-feminine. I
used to think that perhaps I wasn't popular, but every fellow I know has
the same experience."
"I'm an exception," explained Ruth; "I never keep any one waiting. Of
my own volition, that is," she added, hastily, feeling his unspoken
comment.
"I came up this afternoon to ask a favour of you," he began. "Won't you
go for a walk with me? It's wrong to stay indoors on a day like this."
"Wait till I get my hat," said Ruth, rising.
"Fifteen minutes is the limit," he called to her, as she went upstairs.
She was back again almost immediately, and Hepsey watched them in
wide-mouthed astonishment as they went down hill together, for it was
not in her code of manners that "walking out" should begin so soon. When
they approached Miss Ainslie's he pointed out the brown house across
from it, on the other side of the hill.
"Yonder palatial mansion is my present lodging," he volunteered, "and I
am a helpless fly in the web of the 'Widder' Pendleton."
"Pendleton," repeated Ruth; "why, that's Joe's name."
"It is," returned Winfield, concisely. "He sits opposite me at the
table, and wonders at my use of a fork. It is considered merely a spear
for bread and meat at the 'Widder's.' I am observed closely at all
times, and in some respects Joe admires me enough to attempt imitation,
which, as you know, is the highest form of flattery. For instance, this
morning he wore not only a collar and tie, but a scarf pin. It was
a string tie, and I've never before seen a pin worn in one, but it's
interesting."
"It must be."
"He has a sweetheart," Winfield went on, "and I expect she'll be
dazzled."