"Yes," Ruth admitted, with a slight smile; "Miss Minter says there should be a place for everything and everything should be in its place, but that's certainly not the case in our house."
"I never think about it unless we've visitors," Violet confessed; "then I notice it, and wonder what they think."
Long after her sister was asleep that night Ruth lay awake pondering on many things. She was vexed that Violet's curiosity should have taken her to Agnes Hosking's home; for Agnes had been neither kind nor considerate in her treatment of the Wyndham girls, having frequently allowed them to see that she looked down upon them because they wore somewhat shabby clothes, and had but little pocket money to spend. Ruth both disliked and despised Agnes.
By-and-by she dismissed her from her mind, and her thoughts passed to her father's old friend. She liked him, she told herself, and she fancied she understood now a remark she had overheard her father make to her mother, that prosperity had not spoilt Andrew Reed. She wondered if Dr. Reed had really meant that he must persuade her mother to let her pay a visit to his home. Yes, she believed he had meant it; he did not strike her as being the sort of man who would have said it merely to be pleasant. Perhaps, some day, she would receive an invitation from Mrs. Reed. How delightful that would be!
Then she reflected how much better her father had looked that day, and that his cough had been less troublesome. She had been glad to hear Dr. Reed tell him that he must take care of himself; for he never considered himself enough, he was the most unselfish of men. Now, as it always did, her heart softened and thrilled with loving pride as her mind dwelt on her father; and she remembered how, once, when she had been regretting the fact that his work was not appreciated as she had thought it should be, he had put his arm around her and said:—
"Never mind, little daughter, perhaps my day will come, and if not—well 'The true problem of life is not to "get on" or "get up," not to be great or to do great things, but to be just what God meant us to be,'" and the recollection soothed and comforted her, for she realised that one who believed that could not be altogether dissatisfied with his lot.
[CHAPTER III]
DR. REED AT HOME
"NOW, father, for a nice, cosy chat. Take your favourite chair close to the fire, and the little mother shall sit opposite to you, and, oh, I do hope nobody will disturb us to-night!"
The speaker was Ann Reed, and the scene was the drawing-room of the Reeds' house, on the night of the doctor's return from London. He had dined with his wife and daughter, and, having seen his assistant and ascertained that all had gone well during his absence, he had joined them in the drawing-room where they had been waiting for him for the past hour. Sinking into the comfortable chair which Ann had pulled near the fireplace, he heaved a sigh of perfect contentment, and a tender smile shone in his grey eyes as he looked from one to the other of the two faces which, to him, were the dearest in the world.