A few
days after Ruth's conversation with Mr. Bradshaw the invitation
she had been expecting, yet dreading, came. It was to her alone.
Mr. and Miss Benson were pleased at the compliment to her, and
urged her acceptance of it. She wished that they had been
included; she had not thought it right, or kind to Jemima, to
tell them why she was going, and she feared now lest they should
feel a little hurt that they were not asked too. But she need not
have been afraid. They were glad and proud of the attention to
her, and never thought of themselves.
"Ruthie, what gown shall you wear to-night? Your dark-grey one, I
suppose?" asked Miss Benson.
"Yes, I suppose so. I never thought of it; but that is my best."
"Well; then, I shall quill up a ruff for you. You know I am a
famous quiller of net."
Ruth came downstairs with a little flush on her cheeks when she
was ready to go. She held her bonnet and shawl in her hand, for
she knew Miss Benson and Sally would want to see her dressed.
"Is not mamma pretty?" asked Leonard, with a child's pride.
"She looks very nice and tidy," said Miss Benson, who had an idea
that children should not talk or think about beauty.
"I think my ruff looks so nice," said Ruth, with gentle pleasure.
And, indeed, it did look nice, and set off the pretty round
throat most becomingly. Her hair, now grown long and thick, was
smoothed as close to her head as its waving nature would allow,
and plaited up in a great rich knot low down behind.
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