The pitiless, unsympathetic calendar recorded the fact that July was
near its end, and Ruth sighed--then hated herself for it.
She had grown accustomed to idleness, and, under the circumstances,
liked it far too well.
One morning, when she went down to breakfast, Hepsey was evidently
perplexed about something, but Ruth took no outward note of it, knowing
that it would be revealed ere long.
"Miss Thorne," she said, tentatively, as Ruth rose from the table.
"Yes?"
"Of course, Miss Thorne, I reckon likely't ain't none of my business,
but is Mr. Winfield another detective, and have you found anything out
yet?"
Ruth, inwardly raging, forced herself to let the speech pass unnoticed,
and sailed majestically out of the room. She was surprised to discover
that she could be made so furiously angry by so small a thing.
Winfield was coming up the hill with the mail, and she tried to cool her
hot cheeks with her hands. "Let's go down on the side of the hill," she
said, as he gave her some letters and the paper; "it's very warm in the
sun, and I'd like the sea breeze."
They found a comparatively level place, with two trees to lean against,
and, though they were not far from the house, they were effectually
screened by the rising ground. Ruth felt that she could not bear the
sight of Hepsey just then.
After glancing at her letters she began to read aloud, with a troubled
haste which did not escape him. "Here's a man who had a little piece
of bone taken out of the inside of his skull," she said. "Shall I read
about that? He seems, literally, to have had something on his mind."
"You're brilliant this morning," answered Winfield, gravely, and she
laughed hysterically.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "You don't seem like yourself."
"It isn't nice of you to say that," she retorted, "considering your
previous remark."
There was a rumble and a snort on the road and, welcoming the diversion,
he went up to reconnoitre. "Joe's coming; is there anything you want in
the village?"
"No," she answered, wearily, "there's nothing I want--anywhere."
"You're an exceptional woman," returned Winfield, promptly, "and
I'd advise you to sit for your photograph. The papers would like
it--'Picture of the Only Woman Who Doesn't Want Anything'--why, that
would work off an extra in about ten minutes!"
Ruth looked at him for a moment, then turned her eyes away. He felt
vaguely uncomfortable, and was about to offer atonement when Joe's deep
bass voice called out: "Hello!"
"Hello yourself!" came in Hepsey's highest tones, from the garden.
"Want anything to-day?"
"Nope!"
There was a brief pause, and then Joe shouted again: "Hepsey!"
"Well?"
"I should think they'd break their vocal cords," said Winfield.