Next morning Ruth refused to let her go to school with the others, would not let her leave the house.
"You'll stay along with me," she said, fierce for once.
At eleven o'clock there came a knock. Ruth hustled the child out into the backyard, shoved her into the coal-shed, turned the key on her, and locked the backdoor. Then she went very quietly not to the front-door but to the window, opening it a crack with the utmost stealth. Kneeling she listened. Whoever was at the door was very quiet, not a man. If it had been he would have spat by now, or sworn.
"Who is it? she asked.
"Mrs. Lewknor," came the reply.
Ruth opened. The little lady entered, and followed into the kitchen.
"Is it all right, 'M?" asked Ruth anxiously.
"It's going to be," replied the other, firm and confident. "You've got your marriage-certificate if we should want it?"
Ruth sighed her relief.
"O yes, 'M. I got my lines all right. They're in the tin box under the bed." She was running upstairs to fetch them when the other stayed her.