Now Ruth is an interior decorator. Her shop is one of the most successful and exclusive in New York City. We're all very proud of Ruth. When she appeared that day so unexpectedly at the Homestead, I spied her first coming up the walk to Edith's door. "Well--look what's coming!" I exclaimed, for Ruth was not alone. She was carrying Oliver's littlest girl, Becky. "Good gracious!" exclaimed Edith. "Is it Ruth?" asked Malcolm, staring hard through his thick, near-sighted glasses. "Has she got Becky?" inquired Oliver. "Explain yourself," laughed Alec, going to the screen door and letting Ruth in. We all gathered round her. "Hello, everybody," she smiled at us over Becky's shoulder. She was warm with walking. "Nothing to explain. Just decided to run up here, that's all, and found this poor little thing crying down by the gate. It's Becky, isn't it, Oliver? I haven't seen her for a year." "It's just a shame you didn't let us meet you," said Edith. "Walking in this weather! I declare it is. Come, give that child to me, and you go on upstairs and get washed up. She's ruining your skirt. Come, Becky." Becky is an extremely timid little creature. She hadn't let any one but Oliver touch her since Madge had gone the day before. She had been crying most of the time. Her lip quivered at the sight of Edith's outstretched hands. I saw her plump arm tighten around Ruth's neck. "Here, come, Becky," said Oliver sternly, and offered to take her himself. She turned away even from him. "She takes fancies," explained Oliver. "You're in for it, I'm afraid, Ruth." "Am I?" Ruth said, flushing unaccountably. "Well, you see," she went on apologetically, "I came upon her down there by the gate just as she had fallen down and hurt her knee. I was the only one to pick her up, so she had to let me. I put powder on the bruised knee. It interested her. It made her laugh. We had quite a game, and when I came away she insisted upon coming, too." "You see, Madge has started for Colorado," I explained, "and Becky----" "Colorado!" exclaimed Ruth. Of course she didn't know. We told her about it. "Poor little lonely kiddie," Ruth said softly afterward, giving Becky a strange little caress with the tip of her finger on the end of the child's infinitesimal nose. "Most as forlorn as some one they don't invite to family reunions any more." "Why, Ruth," I remonstrated. "We thought--you see----" "Never mind," she interrupted lightly. "I wasn't serious. I'll run upstairs now, and freshen up a bit." "Come, Becky," ordered Oliver, "get down." I saw Becky's arm tighten around Ruth's neck again. She's an unaccountable child. Ruth said quietly, "Let her come upstairs with me, if she wants. I haven't had a welcome like this since the days of poor little Dandy." An hour later Edith and I found Ruth sitting in a rocking-chair in the room that used to be hers years ago when she was a young girl. She was holding Becky. "What in the world are you doing?" asked Edith.