I had always planned to use that. It's so quaint and dear and old-fashioned. In the cradle in a green pasteboard box was a whole bundle of Will's baby-clothes—the queerest, finest little hand-made muslin shirts, and dresses with a lot of stiff embroidery and ruffles.
I had no idea what time it was when later I heard Ruth calling me from below.
"Lucy, Lucy! Are you up there?"
"Yes," I answered. "What time is it?"
"Why, it's after midnight! What are you doing?"
"Oh, looking up some old stuff. I'll be right down."
I met her on the stairs. I felt guilty. I was afraid that joy was written all over my face. I might as well have just left the arms of a lover.
"Oh, Ruth," I exclaimed, "isn't it fine? That little boy in Chicago is going to live! I've had a special delivery from Will. Isn't it great? He's going to get well!"
"That's splendid," said Ruth, and then, eyes sparkling, voice trembling, she exploded, "Oh, Lucy, Bob has just gone! We're engaged!"
I blew out the candle for safety's sake, and put my arms about my sister.
"Really, Ruth?" I exclaimed, and we sat down side by side on the dark stairs.
"He's cared for me all along, all the fall—all this time! Of course we both couldn't help but know it! But Bob—he's just that honourable he wouldn't say a word till he told me all about his circumstances and—everything. Circumstances! Oh, dear, I—
