"No."
Ruth tore the crackling paper slowly, her mouth set in pinched, tense lines which changed suddenly and quivered for an instant piteously. Then she regained her composure.
"It's just a telegram from your brother," she said to Elizabeth, "a few lines to inquire about me and wish me good luck. It's funny it should have come now—isn't it?"
CHAPTER XIII
Crabbing
Elizabeth's first impulse the next morning was to write to Jean. It was Jean who always helped her to think out her problems, and this was the greatest problem that she had ever been called to face. She could not entirely confide in her friend, still she was comforted by the mere act of opening her birthday writing-case, and filling the fountain pen with which she was going to write.
She wondered if the Christian Graces, when they looked down on her Aunt Helen, had ever found her in such a state of real trouble and dismay.
"Hope can't do me much good," she thought, "and there is nobody to have any Charity for but Mr. Piggy Chambers. It's Faith I need for my guide, and she is the saddest looking sister of the lot."