“Ruthy! Ruthy, dear! just sit up a little, if you can; I have brought a gentleman, who wants to get acquainted with us. I told him all about things, you know, and he seems to think—Well, I don’t know what he thinks—but something awful kind, I’m sure.” While James stood in the doorway uttering this exciting little speech, Ruth arose feebly from her pillows, dropped her feet to the floor, and turned her eyes upon the stranger in breathless expectation. She saw a tall slender man, some forty or forty-five years of age, with hair that had once been black as the neck of a raven, large dark eyes full of calm sadness, a forehead as white as marble, and but faintly lined. To these were added a fine sensitive mouth, to which laughter seemed to come never, and smiles but seldom; still, in his face and quiet, gentlemanly air, was that indescribable something which awakes sympathy and verges on tenderness. “Forgive me, young lady; I did not intend to intrude on you in this abrupt way,” he said, lifting his hat as he crossed the threshold. “I have met a young lady, your sister, I think, who half gave me permission to call.” “My sister is not at home,” answered Ruth, blushing; for she was so unaccustomed to the sight of a stranger that the presence of this one set her heart into a wild flutter. “I know; this good lad told me as much. He also told me some other things about his family, that made me think—that made me hope—” The stranger paused, and bent his eyes upon the girl with a long, wistful look, that seemed pleading with her for help. “Perhaps you hoped to find some one that you knew?” “Yes, yes; I did hope that—but it was long ago. No friend of mine could be young as you are.” “Was it somebody you wanted to find, then? Perhaps mother may help you.” “Perhaps,” said the man, abstractedly, still gazing in that delicate young face, as if searching its features, one by one. “She knew all my poor father’s friends,” said Ruth, embarrassed by the silence. “Ah, yes! I should like to see your mother.” Ruth lifted her voice a little, and called out: “Mother! Mother!” “Well, I must be going. It’s so long since I went out, and they’ll miss me at the store,” said little James, who had waited in silence for something strange to happen; for this advent of a stranger seemed full of importance to him. “Good-bye, Ruthy; good-bye, sir! I’m off.” As James ran down the front yard, Mrs. Laurence came into the little parlor, untying the apron in which she had been working as she came in. Mr. Ross started, and turning in his chair, regarded her with a sharp, scrutinizing look, which deepened into an expression of keen disappointment. “This is my mother,” said Ruth, bending her head, while Mrs. Laurence paused to fling her apron back into the kitchen, when she saw a stranger in the room.