Now, if Ruth could have become unprofessional, all might have been well; but she had gone out with a sincere desire to do her duty; so she took the offered seat near Mrs. Smith, and said: "I called this afternoon, at Dr. Dennis' request, to see if there was anything that I could do for you." Mrs. Smith looked politely amazed. "I don't think I quite understand," she said, slowly; while in the daughter's bright eyes there gleamed mirth and mischief. "I do," she said, quickly. "Dr. Dennis is very kind. Miss Erskine, I am very anxious to have a blue silk dress, trimmed in white lace, to wear to the party next week; could you manage it for me, do you think?" "Caroline!" spoke Mrs. Smith, in a surprised and reproving tone, while Ruth looked her indignant astonishment. "Well, mother, she said she called to see if we wanted anything, and I certainly want that." "There is some mistake," Mrs. Smith said, speaking kindly, and evidently pitying Ruth's dreadful embarrassment. "You have mistaken the house, I presume; our name is such a common one. You are out on an errand of charity, I presume? We are glad to see you, of course, but we are not in need of anything but friends. I believe you attend the same church with ourselves; we ought to know each other, of course. So we shall profit by the mistake after all. My daughter is a wild little girl, and lets her sense of fun get the better of her politeness sometimes; I hope you will excuse her." What was to be said? Why could not Ruth get rid of her horrible embarrassment and rally to meet this kind and frank greeting? In vain she tried to command her tongue; to think of something to say that would be proper under these strange circumstances. How had she misunderstood Dr. Dennis! Why should these people be called on? Why should they feel that they were being neglected when they were in need of nothing? It was all a mystery to her; and the world is full of people who do not understand a sense of loneliness, whose lives are so full of friendships, and engagements, and society, that they imagine all other people are like themselves except that class known as the poor, who need old clothes, and cold pieces, and tracts! That was all that Ruth Erskine knew. She could not recover from her astonishment and confusion; she made her stay very short, indeed, apologizing in what she was conscious was an awkward way for her intrusion, and then went directly toward home, resolving in great firmness that she had made her last calls on people selected from that horrible list.