little twist hurt her a good deal, and she allowed his admiration for her fortitude to grow as much as it wanted to. What he admired most was pluck—especially in a woman. This girl from the rectory certainly had it. She wasn't the kind who complains and lets her own grief spoil the joy of others.
On the way home she confessed to him that she could not have walked up that hill even one more time without screaming. Yes, the pain was pretty bad, but it would be all right in a day or two.
The very next day he called to see how she was. She made light of her twist, but she lay in a long chair with many cushions and begged him to excuse her for not rising to welcome him.
Somehow the young man, as innocent young men will, believed that the accident was all his fault.
"It wasn't your fault a bit," she said rather sharply, "and you know it. If you had been steering it wouldn't have happened."
Mrs. Eaton smiled upon the pair and left the room. And she took Edward with her, though he would have liked to stay, and saw no reason why he shouldn't. Just as Mrs. Eaton and Edward left the room, Ruth said:
"But I had a grand time, and this is nothing."
And Armitage said, with much concern in his
