She wore a black and white striped chiffon, with touches of black silk, and the effect, with her pale face and fair hair was lovely. A breastknot of valley lilies added to the loveliness, and I allowed my eyes to feast on her fairness. I had thought Ruth was not what could be called a pretty woman, certainly she was not beautiful; but that night her charm appealed to me more strongly than ever, and I concluded that her air of high-bred delicacy and infinite fineness were more to be desired than mere beauty. Fibsy, too, devoured her with his eyes, though discreetly, and when he thought he was not observed. Fleming Stone devoted himself to the sisters; probably, I concluded, because he was in their employ, and so owed them his attention. Ruth wore her beautiful pearls, and referred to the fact, half-apologetically, saying that Mr. Schuyler had liked always to see them on her, and she felt privileged to continue to use them, even in her mourning period. "You like only poils--pearls, don't you, Mrs. Schuyler?" Fibsy's slip of pronunciation was due to his slight embarrassment at his novel surroundings, but he valiantly corrected himself and ignored it. "I like other gems," Ruth replied, "but Mr. Schuyler preferred pearls, and gave me such beauties that I have grown very fond of them." "I remember, Ruth," said Sarah, reminiscently, "how you used to beg Randolph for sapphires and diamonds instead. You even wanted semi-precious stones--turquoises and topaz. Oh, I remember. But Randolph taught you that pearls were the best taste for a young matron and you grudgingly acquiesced." "Oh, not grudgingly, Sarah," and Ruth flushed at the reprimand in her sister's voice. "Yes, grudgingly. Even unwillingly. In fact, all Randolph's decisions you fought until he made you surrender. You know how you wanted gay-colored gowns until he made you see that grays and mauves were better taste." "Never mind my peccadilloes," said Ruth, lightly. "Let's talk of something less personal." "Let's talk about the weather," suggested Fibsy, who was not conducting himself on the seen and not heard plan. "The park is fine now. All full o' red an' gold autumn leaves. Have you noticed it, Mrs. Schuyler?" "Not especially," and Ruth smiled at him, in appreciation of his conversational help. "I must walk over there to-morrow." "Yes,'m. An' why don't you go for a long motor; ride up Westchester way? The scenery's great!" "How do you know, have you been there?" "Not just lately, but I was last fall. Do you remember the big trees just at the turn of the road by--" But Ruth was not listening to the child. Stone had said something that claimed her attention. However, Fibsy was unabashed. With no trace of forwardness, but with due belief in his security of position as a guest, he continued to chatter to Ruth, and rarely addressed any one else. He has something up his sleeve, I thought, for I was beginning to have great faith in the lad's cleverness.