We spent a merry enough hour in the attic, and were summoned there the next morning and evening. All this time the novelty of town life, the fascination of the theatricals, the talks with girls like the Prices, filled me with a sort of intoxication of delight. Sometimes I used to find Mr. Ludlow watching me very closely; sometimes I half fancied he looked disapprovingly at some of my manners and my remarks; but I was too full of self-conceit to think he could really find fault with anything about me. It was all so delightful: the little councils in the attic, sometimes about the acting, sometimes about the dresses; then, as the day approached, the innumerable suggestions for "stage effects." We were always scampering up there for this and that, and the fact of concealing our purpose from Cousin Mary lent a new zest to our delight. Now all this time I could not help feeling what a strong influence Mr. Ludlow was in the little circle: with all his fun and good-humor, he had a certain dignity which made people turn to him with a peculiar respect. If ever I felt abashed, it was when I met his grave kindly glance; if ever I stopped for an instant's criticism of my silly selfish self, it was when I thought of what he would think of me. The secret of it was that with all his love of honest fun and pleasure, he had higher lights: he was seeking something of which I had never thought; he had a purpose in his life which dignified it, so that in his lightest moments I felt that his influence was a strong and serious one. At times he encouraged me to talk to him, and I was startled one day by overhearing him say to Kate, "I think you don't do Ruth justice; I believe there is more in her than that." I fancied directly that this referred to my acting, and the only result was an increase of effort when it came my turn to appear at the rehearsals.