"Yes, I am sure we shall be," replied Flora, earnestly. "I like you ever so much, Ruth. I am very lonely here. I know nobody in this place except my home folks."
"How strange," said Ruth, in a puzzled way. "Tell me about it."
Flora was glad to tell her story.
"You poor child!" exclaimed matronly Ruth, taking her hand between both her own, and pressing it. "How sorry I am for you."
"Are you?" said Flora, laughing nervously, for she felt more like crying. "I was just feeling sorry for you."
"Sorry for me? Why?"
"Because you have to live here all alone, or almost alone, and have so many responsibilities. You must get very lonely."
"Oh, but my responsibilities keep me so busy I have no time to be lonely. Besides, I like responsibilities."
"You do? Perhaps if I had a few I wouldn't be so lonely either; but then you see I have none."
"I think you have," returned Ruth, soberly, and added, after a moment's thought, "I think you have a great many."