Kemp sat upon the top step, and leaned his back against the railing; although outwardly he kept up a constant low run of conversation with Mrs. Levice, who swayed to and fro in her rocker, he was intently conscious of Ruth’s white figure perched on the window-sill.
How Mrs. Levice happened to broach the subject, Ruth never knew; but she was rather startled when she perceived that Kemp was addressing her.
“I should like to show my prowess to you, Miss Levice.”
“In what?” she asked, somewhat dazed.
“Ruth, Ruth,” laughed her mother, “do you mean to say you have not heard a word of all my glowing compliments on your rowing?”
“And I was telling your mother that in all modesty I was considered a fine oar at my Alma Mater.”
“And I hazarded the suggestion,” added Mrs. Levice, “that as it is such a beautiful night, there is nothing to prevent your taking a little row, and then each can judge of the other’s claim to superiority?”
“My claim has never been justly established,” said Ruth. “I have never allowed any one to usurp my oars.”
“As yet,” corrected Kemp. “Then will you wrap something about you and come down to the river?”
“Certainly she will,” answered her mother; “run in and get some wraps, Ruth.”