Anna said nothing. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. “To-night we are as we have always been. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. . She explained she was expecting an important interview, and asked that her visitor should be duly shown in. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them.
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