“Steve’s in love with you!” “What? Oh, no! You are mistaken.” Ruth was conscious that her reply was silly and weak, and that she was blushing violently. “Yes, he is—dead in love. Why, everybody knows it—at least Jack does, and Blair does, and I do. And I am, too,” he added, warmly. The boy’s ingenuous declaration steadied Ruth and soothed her. She looked at him with a pleased and gratified light on her face. “I am—I am dead in love with you, too. I think you are the prettiest and sweetest and kindest young lady in the whole world—just as nice as Blair, every bit; and I just wish I was older—I just wish you could marry me.” He was blushing and turning white by turns, and the expression on his young face was so ingenuous and sweet and modest, and the light in his eyes so adoring, that the girl’s heart went out to him. She drew her horse over to his side, and put her hand softly on his arm. “Rupert, you are a dear, sweet boy, and, at least, you will let me be your best friend, and you will be mine,” she said, sweetly. “Yes, I will, and I think you are just as good as you can be, and I’ll be just like your own brother, if you will let me.” “Indeed, I will, and we will always be sister and brother to each other.” “Thank you,” he said, simply. A moment later he said, reining in his horse, “I say, if you think that suit means anything against your father, I’ll have it stopped.” “No, no, Rupert; I am satisfied,” Ruth protested, with a smile. “Because I can do it; Jack and Steve would do anything for me, and I would do anything for you. It was mainly on my account, anyhow, that they brought it, I believe,” he added. “They said I was a minor; but, you know, I’ll soon be of age—I’m seventeen now. I don’t know why boys have to be boys, anyhow! I don’t see why they can’t be men at once.” “I think I know,” Ruth smiled, gazing at him pleasantly. “And, I say, I want to tell you one thing about Steve. He isn’t what people take him to be. You know?—Just clever and dashing and wild and reckless. He’s the best and kindest fellow in the world. You ask Aunt Thomasia and Blair and Aunt Peggy and Uncle Waverley and old Mrs. Turley, and all the poor people about the County. And he’s as brave as Julius Cæsar. I want to tell you that of him, and you know I wouldn’t tell you if ’twa’n’t so.” “I know,” said Ruth, looking at him more pleasantly than ever. They were at the gate now, and Ruth invited him in; but Rupert said he had an engagement. “There is one thing I want to ask you to do,” said Ruth, rather doubtfully. “What is it?” he asked, brightening; and then, as she hesitated: “ Anything! I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you, Miss Ruth; indeed, I will.” “No; it is not for me, but for yourself,” said Ruth, who was thinking of a report that Rupert had been associating lately with some very wild young men, and she had it in her mind to ask him not to do so any more. “But, no; I’ll ask you next time I see you, maybe,” she added, after a pause.