A Colonial Wooing
"Ah! Ruth, each of us holds herself as the exception to everything undesirable."
"But, mother," Ruth insisted, "there is a difference. I do not concern myself with my neighbors, and why should I be singled out as the target for all their gossipy arrows? Would it not be more fitting, if I must be criticised, for the Friends to wait until I have really done something terrible, or—or—well—well, until John Bishop asks me to marry him? I wish he would."
"Why, Ruth!" exclaimed her mother, in astonishment.
"Yes, I wish he would; for then I could give him an answer that would end this tattle."
"But would thee, Ruth?" asked her mother, recovering from the shock of her daughter's strange declaration.
"Would I, mother? Why, how can I tell until he asks?" And then, leaving the little rocking-chair, she took a stool and placed it at her mother's feet, and taking her mother's hands in her own, rested her head upon them, and sang in a low voice,—
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