It had been one of those lightning changes which a pretty girl can always make when her lover is expected any instant and she does not want to lose a moment of his time, but it had sufficed. Something soft and clinging it was now; her lovely, rounded figure moving in its folds as a mermaid moves in the surf; her hair shaken out and caught up again in all its delicious abandon; her cheeks, lips, throat, rose-color in the joy of her expectancy. He sat drinking it all in. Had a mass of outdoor roses been laid by his side, their fragrance filling the air, the beauty of their coloring entrancing his soul, he could not have been more intoxicated by their beauty. And yet, strange to say, only commonplaces rose to his lips. All the volcano beneath, and only little spats of smoke and dying bits of ashes in evidence! Even the message of his Chief about her not getting a new bonnet all summer seemed a godsend under the circumstances. Had there been any basis for her self-denial he would not have told her, knowing how much anxiety she had suffered an hour before. But there was no real good reason why she should economize either in bonnets or in anything else she wanted. McGowan, of course, would be held responsible; for whatever damage had been done he would have to pay. He had been present when the young architect's watchful and trained eye had discovered some defects in the masonry of the wing walls of the McGowan culvert bridging the stream, and had heard him tell the contractor, in so many words that if the water got away and smashed anything below him he would charge the loss to his account. McGowan had groveled in dissent, but it had made no impression on Garry, whose duty it was to see that the work was properly carried out and whose signature loosened the village purse strings. None of these details would interest Ruth; nor was it necessary that they should. The bonnet, however, was another matter. Bonnets were worn over pretty heads and framed lovely hair and faces and eyes--one especially! And then again any pleasantry of her father's would tend to relieve her mind after the anxiety of the morning. Yes, the bonnet by all means! “Oh, I never gave you your father's message,” he began, laying aside his cup, quite as if he had just remembered it. “I ought to have done so before you hung up the hat you wore a while ago.” Ruth looked up, smiling: “Why?” There was a roguish expression about her mouth as she spoke. She was very happy this afternoon. “He says you won't get a new bonnet all summer,” continued Jack, toying with the end of the ribbon that floated from her waist. Ruth put down her cup and half rose from her chair All the color had faded from her cheeks. “Did he tell you that?” she cried, her eyes staring into his, her voice trembling as if from some sudden fright. Jack gazed at her in wonderment: “Yes--of course he did and--Why, Miss Ruth!--Why, what's the matter! Have I said anything that--”