“Tiny things occurred, which I noted at the time and cast aside on the scrap-heap of my observation, and which later I retrieved and strung together in their coherent order. As who should come upon the pieces of a child’s puzzle strewn here and there upon his path. “Ruth, my instructress and companion, I saw going about her work without haste, almost without interest. She was kind to the animals in her care after an indifferent, sleepy fashion, more from habit and upbringing than from a natural benevolence. She brought no enthusiasm to any of her undertakings. Her tasks were performed conscientiously, but by rote. Yet one day, when the sheep-dog happened to be in her path, I saw her kick out at it in the belly with sudden and unbridled vehemence. “I was first really startled by the appearance of Rawdon Westmacott. In the big, shadowy, draughty barn I was cutting chaff for the horses, while Ruth sat near by on a truss of straw, trying to mend a bridle-strap with string. I had then been at Pennistans’ about a week. The wide doors of the barn were open, letting in a great square of dust-moted sunlight, and in this square a score of Leghorn hens and cockerels moved picking at the scattered chaff, daintily pricking on their spindly feet, snowy white and coral crested. A shadow fell across the floor. Ruth and I raised our heads. A young man leant against the side of the door, a tall young man in riding breeches, with a dull red stock twisted round his throat, smacking at his leathern gaiters with a riding whip he held in his hand. The rein was over his arm, and his horse, lowering his head, snuffed breezily at the chaff blown out into the yard. “‘You’re back, then?’ said Ruth. “‘Ay,’ said the young man, looking suspiciously at me, and I caught the slightest jerk of the head and interrogative crinkle of the forehead by which he required an explanation. “‘This is my cousin, Rawdon Westmacott, Mr. Malory,’ Ruth said. “The young man flicked his whip up to his cap, and then dismissed me from his interest. “‘Coming out, Ruth?’ he asked. “She pouted her indecision. “‘You shall have a ride,’ he suggested. “‘No, thanks.’ “‘Well, walk a bit of the way home with me, anyhow.’ “‘I don’t know that I’m so very keen.’ “‘Oh, come on, Ruthie, after I’ve ridden straight over here to see you; thrown my bag into the house, and come straight away to you, without a look into one single thing at home.’ “‘It’d be better for things if you did look into them a bit more, Rawdon.’ “Overcome by the perversity of women, he said again,— “‘Come on, Ruthie.’