"An old country woman like me," she cried in a kind of indignation. "A woman who has baked and brewed, and washed and ironed, milked and churned, and spun and spent the best of her life waiting on menfolk! A pretty sight I would be to go to Paris!"
"We should not expect to live at court," I laughed. "I was quite an ignorant lad when I went there. And if it was best for both Ruth and her father? She could not go without you."
It did take a good deal of argument and persuasion as well as good temper, but at last I gained my point. We had the father, Michael Sontieff, come and stay with us and found him clear minded and a really able man. They could send for the family at once. The mother and the young wife had some money of their own and were most anxious to rejoin their husbands.
So the matter was settled to my great delight. Ruth was willing to do anything. I did not like the apathy, though it was so sweet one could not chide her.
Mother was still an energetic woman. And now that there was some real work devolving upon her, she was happy and cheerful. Her best belongings were sent to Sophie's and her house rented. She packed away the choicest of the Gaynors', she looked up the articles and clothing we needed for our journey.
"I feel as if I was going on a fool's errand," said John Gaynor emphatically, "but if Ruth can recover her health and forget the sad tragedy I shall be repaid."
The Sontieffs came in delighted. Young John was most loth to have us go. He had the making of a newspaper man in him, he would never have been a successful practical farmer.
We went to New York, and the middle of April we sailed for Liverpool. It was a pleasant voyage and the ocean trip did seem to revive the drooping Little Girl.
CHAPTER XX
THE PASSING OF OLD CHICAGO
That two years abroad was like a happy dream, the romance of our lives. Everything was queer to my travellers at first. Ruth made amusing attempts at French, of which she did know a little. Mother would have none of the "gibberish."