Ruth to her father, who was sitting on the farmhouse porch.
"No, thank you," he answered. "I have some letters to write."
His voice had grown somewhat stronger under the influence of the pure, country air, and from the fact that he used it very little. But still it was not clear enough to enable him to go back into legitimate theatrical work. And, truth to tell, he rather preferred the moving pictures now. It was easier, even if there was no audience to applaud him.
Ruth and Alice soon reached the edge of the cool woods, and then they strolled slowly along until they came to a little dell—a nook they had discovered one day when out walking.
"Oh, this is delightful!" exclaimed Alice, as she sank down on a bed of moss.
"Yes, it is very soothing to the nerves," agreed Ruth. "Oh, dear!" she suddenly cried, leaping to her feet.
"What is it?" demanded Alice.
"A bug walked right over my shoe!"
"Oh, mercy me!" mocked her sister. "Are you so scared that even a bug can't look at you, sister mine? Why, it's only a lady-bug—very proper to have on one's shoes, I'm sure," she added, as she saw the harmless insect.
