I took Thomasine away without a word, and gave her to Rosa in the nursery. When I came back to the parlor Tom was in his favorite position before the window. He wheeled round suddenly when he heard me.
"You are not angry, Ruth?" he asked.
"No, Tom," I answered; "only sorry."
I sat down and took up my sewing, while he walked about the room. He stopped in front of me after a moment.
"I wanted to tell you, Ruth," he said, "that I am not going back to New York."
I looked at him questioningly, and waited.
"I had really a good opening there," he went on; "but I thought I ought not to take it."
I asked him why.
"I'll be hanged if I quite know," he responded explosively. "I suppose it's part obstinacy that makes me too stubborn to run away from disgrace, and partly it's father. This thing has broken him terribly. I'm going to stay and help him out."
I know how Tom hates farming, and I held out my hand to him and said so.