"When did you come? How did you find your father and mother?" inquired
Roberta demurely.
"Well and hearty as ever, and apparently glad to see their son—as he was to see them. I've been devoting myself to them for three days now, and mean to give them the whole week. It's only fair—isn't it?—after being away so long. How fortunate for me that I should meet you; I might not have found it out till I had missed much time."
"You've missed much time already," put in Uncle Rufus. "They came last night."
"Put your hat on, Forbes," was Aunt Ruth's admonition as Westcott continued to stand beside Roberta, exchanging question and answer concerning the long interval which had intervened since they last met. "Come over to supper to-night, and then you young people can talk without danger of catching your death of cold."
Westcott laughed and accepted, but the hat was not replaced upon his smooth, dark head until the sleigh had gone on.
"Subjects always keep uncovered before their queen," whispered Ruth in
Uncle Rufus's ear, and he laughed and nodded.
"Times have changed since I was a young man," said he. "A fellow would have looked queer in my day unwinding his comforter and pulling off his coonskin cap and standing holding those things while he talked on a February morning. He'd have gone home and taken some pepper-tea to ward off the effects of the chill!"
"There's Benson's," Roberta interrupted, "and it's open. Why, look at the people in front of the windows! Look at the windows themselves. There must be a new firm. Poor Hugh!"
"There's a new sign over the old one; a 'Successors to,' I think; but Benson's name is on it, 'Benson & Company,'" announced Ruth, straining her eyes to make it out.
"Somebody must have come to the rescue," said Uncle Rufus with joyous interest. "Well, well; the thing has been kept surprisingly still, and I can't think who it can be, but I'm certainly glad. I hated to see the boy fail. I suppose you all want to go in?"