Though Winfield had sternly determined to go back to town the following
day, he did not achieve departure until later. Ruth went to the station
with him, and desolation came upon her when the train pulled out, in
spite of the new happiness in her heart.
She had little time to miss him, however, for, at the end of the week,
and in accordance with immemorial custom, the Unexpected happened.
She was sitting at her window one morning, trying to sew, when the
village chariot stopped at the gate and a lady descended. Joe stirred
lazily on the front seat, but she said, in a clear, high-pitched voice:
"You needn't trouble yourself, Joe. He'll carry the things."
She came toward the house, fanning herself with a certain stateliness,
and carrying her handkerchief primly, by the exact centre of it. In her
wake was a little old gentleman, with a huge bundle, surrounded by a
shawl-strap, a large valise, much the worse for wear, a telescope basket
which was expanded to its full height, and two small parcels. A cane was
tucked under one arm and an umbrella under the other. He could scarcely
be seen behind the mountain of baggage.
Hepsey was already at the door. "Why, Miss Hathaway!" she cried, in
astonishment.
"'T ain't Miss Hathaway," rejoined the visitor, with some asperity,
"it's Mrs. Ball, and this is my husband. Niece Ruth, I presume," she
added, as Miss Thorne appeared. "Ruth, let me introduce you to your
Uncle James."
The bride was of medium height and rather angular. Her eyes were small,
dark, and so piercingly brilliant that they suggested jet beads.
Her skin was dark and her lips had been habitually compressed into a
straight line. None the less, it was the face that Ruth had seen in the
ambrotype at Miss Ainslie's, with the additional hardness that comes to
those who grow old without love. Her bearing was that of a brisk, active
woman, accustomed all her life to obedience and respect.
Mr. Ball was two or three inches shorter than his wife, and had a white
beard, irregularly streaked with brown. He was baldheaded in front, had
scant, reddish hair in the back, and his faded blue eyes were tearful.
He had very small feet and the unmistakable gait of a sailor. Though
there was no immediate resemblance, Ruth was sure that he was the
man whose picture was in Aunt Jane's treasure chest in the attic. The
daredevil look was gone, however, and he was merely a quiet, inoffensive
old gentleman, for whom life had been none too easy.
"Welcome to your new home, James," said his wife, in a crisp,
businesslike tone, which but partially concealed a latent tenderness. He
smiled, but made no reply.
Hepsey still stood in the parlour, in wide mouthed astonishment, and it
was Ruth's good fortune to see the glance which Mrs. Ball cast upon her
offending maid. There was no change of expression except in the eyes,
but Hepsey instantly understood that she was out of her place, and
retreated to the kitchen with a flush upon her cheeks, which was
altogether foreign to Ruth's experience.