The woman was now so weak that the strong girl could easily lead her. Mr. Peterby Paul looked at the forlorn figure askance, however.
“You can’t blame me for thinkin’ she was a Whosis,” he said to Ruth. “Poor critter! It’s lucky you came after her. She give me such a start I might o’ run sort o’ wild myself.”
“Perhaps if you had tried to catch her it would only have made her worse,” Ruth replied, gently patting the excited woman’s hand.
“The voice of God!” muttered the victim of her own nervousness.
“And she traipsing through these woods in a silk dress!” exclaimed Mr. Paul. “I tell ’em all, city folks ain’t got right good sense.”
“Maybe you are right, Mr. Paul,” sighed Ruth. “We are all a little queer, I guess. I will take her down to the car.”
“And I’ll be right along with a couple of cans of gasoline, Ma’am,” rejoined Peterby Paul. “Ain’t no use you and your friends bein’ stranded no longer.”
“If you will be so kind,” Ruth said.
He turned back up the ravine and Ruth urged the lost woman down the hill. The poor creature was scarcely able to walk, even after she had put on her lost shoe. Her fears which had driven her into this quite irresponsible state, were the result of ungoverned nervousness. Ruth thought seriously of this fact as she aided her charge down the hillside.
She must steady her own nerves, or the result might be quite as serious. She had allowed the loss of her scenario to shake her usual calm. She knew she had not been acting like herself during this automobile journey and that she had given her friends cause for alarm.