“Not a bit of it.  You know it’s so yourself,” called Betty as the door closed.  “Wasn’t it nice of Arthur to think of it?” she added, as they settled down to their cozy lunch.

“Very,” answered Ruth, who, at sight of the thin bread and butter and the steaming chocolate topped with small mountains of whipped cream, had just found out that she was really hungry and couldn’t wait another moment.

While the girls had been talking, Arthur had been trying to make up his mind to start up the stairs again.  The flight looked endless to him, and after the excitement and effort he had just been through he felt weak and miserable.  Time after time he decided to start, and once he got as far as the stairs, but a sudden sound drove him back to the hall sofa again.  How could he tell that Betty might not come down at any minute and perhaps bring Ruth with her?  At last a brilliant idea struck him.  Ruth must be hungry after her journey, and if Ellen should take up a lunch it would keep them busy for some time at least.  He made his way out into the kitchen, where Ellen received him with wonder and delight, and almost cried over him, so great was her joy at seeing him down-stairs once more.  Then, having waited until the tray was safely in Ruth’s room, he started up-stairs.  It was no small undertaking to hitch along, one stair at a time, dragging a stiff, painful leg, and pulling his crutches after him.  At last, however, with only three more stairs before him, he stopped to rest a moment and began to breathe more easily.

“There,” said Ruth, as she finished her last piece of bread and butter and set down her cup with hardly a drop in it, “I feel like another girl.  I didn’t know how hungry I was.  I couldn’t eat any dinner on the train because I felt so badly over leaving papa and——­”

A strange noise interrupted her.  A noise of some one or something clattering, bumping, sliding down-stairs.

“What do you think it is, Betty?” asked Ruth turning pale.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” answered Betty, who had already started for the hall.  As they reached the top of the stairs they stopped short, for there sat Arthur, very red, very much out of breath and, it must be confessed, very cross.

“Oh, Arthur, how you scared us!  I thought some one was just about killed,” cried Betty.

“It was those confounded crutches,” answered Arthur gruffly.  “They slipped just as I reached the top stair, and I nearly broke my neck trying to catch them.  I don’t see how I am going to get into my room unless you’ll get them for me, Betty,” he added helplessly.

“Why, of course; how stupid of me not to think of it!” said Betty, as she slipped by him and ran lightly down the stairs.

Ruth stood in the hall feeling very ill at ease.  She wished Arthur would laugh and make things seem less solemn.  Then as he didn’t look at her or say a word she went back into her room again.