“The ‘Utopia’ storm-swept
      A passenger injured.”

That was what she seemed to read, and below it an inch of fine type announced that during the severe storm which had hampered all ocean travel for the last few days the “Utopia” had been swept by heavy waves, and one of the passengers injured.

One of the passengers injured!  That, of course, meant father!  Ruth read it time after time until the printed words swam before her eyes, and she groped blindly for a chair so that she need not fall.  There she sat feeling that limbs and tongue were in chains, and that she could neither move nor speak.

Katie, passing through the hall, was startled by the sight of the rigid little figure in the big hall chair, and frightened out of her wits when her sympathetic questions failed to bring forth any response.  She flew out into the kitchen to Ellen, who came hurrying in with a face full of anxiety, and, kneeling before Ruth, took both the cold hands in her own warm clasp.

“What is it, Miss Ruth, darlin’?  Tell me,” she said coaxingly.  At the friendly, human touch, Ruth’s face relaxed.  “Oh, Ellen,” she cried, clinging to her closely, “some one on papa’s steamer has been injured in the storm, and I know it must be papa.”

Ellen looked dazed, and Ruth gave her the paper, pointing out the paragraph as she did so.

“Sure, Miss Ruth, I can’t read it quickly when my mind is so unaisy.  Just read it to me, honey.”

So Ruth read it over for the twentieth time and was surprised to find Ellen still looking cheerful as she finished.

“They don’t give any names,” said Ellen thoughtfully, “and wasn’t it you yourself was telling me that there was over a hundred cabin passengers on that boat, to say nothing of the steerage?”

“Why, yes,” answered Ruth, “but—­”

“Well, then,” interrupted Ellen, “there’s at laste ninety-nine chances out of a hundred that your blessed father never had a hair of his head touched, and that’s sayin’ a good deal, darlin’.”

“It is indeed, Miss Ruth,” added Katie, who had been hovering around anxious to do something to help.

Ruth began to look a bit comforted, and Ellen went on, “I do belave from me soul, Miss Ruth, dear, that before you go to bed tonight you’ll have word from your father.  At any rate, you can’t bring it any faster, nor help it one bit by worryin’ about it.  So now, darlin’, go upstairs and bathe your face and smooth your pretty curls, and we’ll put such a nice dinner on the table for you that you can’t help eatin’.”

“It’s a shame the poor little thing has got to eat her dinner all alone,” said Ellen, as she and Katie went back to the kitchen.  “I’ve a great mind—­” But what she had a mind to do wasn’t told, for she vanished from the kitchen and Katie heard her climbing the back stairs.

She went straight to Arthur’s room, knocked, and hardly waiting for an answer walked in.  Arthur, who was absorbed in a book, looked up surprised at her sudden entrance.