"You're not treating that girl well, I believe," said cook sharply to John one day; "you'll never meet her equal again, though you may cross the seas." "Mind your own business," angrily retorted John, following Ruth into the garden. "Have you anything to say to me, Ruth? I'm going home to-morrow, and I expect to sail next week," he said. If his tone had been less hard, Ruth might have ventured to plead again with him, but she simply said: "No, John, I have said all that I mean to, except that I wish you all success and happiness." "Same to you, Ruth," dryly responded John, and turned on his heel. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER V. A CHANGE OF OPINIONS AND OF HOUSEMAIDS. "I CAN'T think what's come to Ruth," said Mr. Groombridge one day, at dinner-time, about six months after John Greenwood had sailed for Australia; "she's lost all her brightness, and goes about the house as white and silent as a ghost." "She is greatly changed, poor girl, and though I cannot get her to confess it, cook tells me there was some misunderstanding between her and John, and that she has not heard from him since he sailed," replied his wife. "She told me the other day he had arrived safely and was doing well in a store," said Harry. "She would hear all that from his parents; but, my dear, you had better try and win the girl's confidence, and see if you can do anything. It's a thousand pities for a young thing to mope and pine away her best years, when a little advice may set matters right, and make two people happy." "I'll do what I can, but I'm afraid it will not be of much use," said Mrs. Groombridge. "Ruth," she said, when retiring that evening, "I want you to do one or two little things in my room." "Yes, ma'am," replied Ruth, and followed her mistress upstairs. As she was flitting about the bedroom Mrs. Groombridge suddenly asked: "By the bye, Ruth, when did you last hear from John?" Ruth turned away to hide the painful flushing of her face. "I--I--what did you say, ma'am?" "When did John last write to you?" A silence ensued, and then Ruth said: "He's written to his parents, ma'am, and not to me." "Why, how is that, Ruth? Surely you expected to hear from him." "Not much, ma'am," Ruth forced herself to say. "But, Ruth, if you are going out to marry him, he ought to write to you, and you ought to expect him to do so." Ruth's apparent apathy gave way as the remembrance of all her happy dreaming swept over her at her mistress's words. She buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly. Mrs. Groombridge laid a kindly hand upon her shoulder. "Sit down, my poor child, and tell me all about your trouble. Something is wrong between you and John, and perhaps I can help to make it right." "Oh, no, no, ma'am, it's past any one's help," sobbed Ruth, and by degrees her sorrowful story was told. "And, ma'am, I know that his brother will be the ruin of John; he'll go downhill fast, as many a fine young fellow has done."