“My pretty! my pretty!” gasped Aunt Alvirah.  “I seen you graduate, and I heard you sing, and I listened to your fine readin’.  But, oh, my pretty, how hungry my arms are for ye!”

She hobbled across the floor to meet Ruth and, for once, forgot her usually intoned complaint:  “Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!” Ruth caught her in her strong young arms.  Helen slipped out and joined her family in the hall.

In a little while Tom thundered on the door, and shouted:  “Hey! we’re dying for that cup of tea Helen promised us, Ruthie Fielding.  Aren’t you ever going to let us in?”

Ruth’s smiling face immediately appeared.  Her eyes were still wet and her lips trembled as she said: 

“Come in, all of you, do!  We are sure to have a nice cup of tea.  Aunt Alvirah is making it herself.”

THE END