As her voice died slowly into silence, she found Ethel looking over her shoulder and nodding her head.
“Hush! He put his finger on his mouf--sh!”
“Who?” asked Ruth, turning her head hurriedly. Not being able to see through the tree, she started to her feet, still holding the child. Between two trees stood the stalwart figure of Dr. Kemp,--Dr. Kemp in loose, light gray tweeds and white flannel shirt; on the back of his head was a small, soft felt hat, which he lifted as she turned,--a wave of color springing to his cheek with the action. As for Ruth,--a woman’s face dare not speak sometimes.
“Did I startle you?” he asked, coming slowly forward, hat in hand, the golden shafts of the sun falling upon his head and figure.
“Yes,” she answered, trying to speak calmly, and failing, dropped into silence.
She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till she stood at her side.
“I interrupted you,” he continued; “will you shake hands with me, nevertheless?”
She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that moment she had time to compose herself.
“Do you often come up this way?” she questioned.
He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm against the tree, answered,--
“Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my select spots. I knew you would ferret it out.”
“It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is growing old. Come, Ethel.”
A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him. Why should she hurry off at his coming?
“I am sorry my presence disturbs you,” he said quietly; “But I can easily go away again.”
“Was I so rude?” she asked, looking up with a sudden smile. “I did not mean it so; but Ethel’s mother will want her now.”
“Ethel wants to be carried,” begged the child.
“All right; Ruth will carry you,” and she stooped to raise her; but as she did so, Kemp’s strong hand was laid upon her arm and held her back.
“Ethel will ride home on my shoulder,” he said in the gay, winning voice he knew how so well to use with children. The baby’s blue eyes smiled in response to his as he swing her lightly to his broad shoulder. There is nothing prettier to a woman than to see the confidence that a little child reposes in a strong man.
