“I'm an exception,” explained Ruth; “I never keep any one waiting. Of my own volition, that is,” she added, hastily, feeling his unspoken comment. “I came up this afternoon to ask a favour of you,” he began. “Won't you go for a walk with me? It's wrong to stay indoors on a day like this.” “Wait till I get my hat,” said Ruth, rising. “Fifteen minutes is the limit,” he called to her, as she went upstairs. She was back again almost immediately, and Hepsey watched them in wide-mouthed astonishment as they went down hill together, for it was not in her code of manners that “walking out” should begin so soon. When they approached Miss Ainslie's he pointed out the brown house across from it, on the other side of the hill. “Yonder palatial mansion is my present lodging,” he volunteered, “and I am a helpless fly in the web of the 'Widder' Pendleton.” “Pendleton,” repeated Ruth; “why, that's Joe's name.” “It is,” returned Winfield, concisely. “He sits opposite me at the table, and wonders at my use of a fork. It is considered merely a spear for bread and meat at the 'Widder's.' I am observed closely at all times, and in some respects Joe admires me enough to attempt imitation, which, as you know, is the highest form of flattery. For instance, this morning he wore not only a collar and tie, but a scarf pin. It was a string tie, and I've never before seen a pin worn in one, but it's interesting.” “It must be.” “He has a sweetheart,” Winfield went on, “and I expect she'll be dazzled.” “My Hepsey is his lady love,” Ruth explained. “What? The haughty damsel who wouldn't let me in? Do tell!” “You're imitating now,” laughed Ruth, “but I shouldn't call it flattery.” For a moment, there was a chilly silence. Ruth did not look at him, but she bit her lip and then laughed, unwillingly. “'It's all true,” she said, “I plead guilty.” “You see, I know all about you,” he went on. “You knit your brows in deep thought, do not hear when you are spoken to, even in a loud voice, and your mail consists almost entirely of bulky envelopes, of a legal nature, such as came to the 'Widder' Pendleton from the insurance people.” “Returned manuscripts,” she interjected. “Possibly--far be it from me to say they're not. Why, I've had 'em myself.” “You don't mean it!” she exclaimed, ironically. “You seek out, as if by instinct, the only crazy person in the village, and come home greatly perturbed. You ask queer questions of your humble serving-maid, assume a skirt which is shorter than the approved model, speaking from the village standpoint, and unhesitatingly appear on the public streets. You go to the attic at night and search the inmost recesses of many old trunks.” “Yes,” sighed Ruth, “I've done all that.”