'Were you?' said Flossie, rather incredulously. 'You don't look very happy. I thought so the first day. I wrote to mother that you had a kind face, but not a happy one.'
'Did you, Miss Flossie?' exclaimed Ruth, rather taken aback. 'Well, at home I was called the merriest of everybody, and, and—I've been merry here sometimes.'
'But you're not now, Ruth,' said Flossie gravely. Then she peered up into the little maid's face with her big gray eyes. 'I'll tell you what, Ruth,' she said, 'I believe you've something on your mind. It's very bad to have something on your mind. I know about it,' she went on mysteriously.
Ruth grew scarlet.
'You know about me having something on my mind, Miss Flossie,' she said. 'What do you mean?'
Flossie did not at once answer.
'I hate passing that way,' she murmured to herself. 'I shut my eyes tight not to see the cabi——. What are you staring at me like that for, Ruth?' she broke off suddenly, finding the girl's eyes fixed upon her. 'I only said it's very bad to have something on your mind, and so it is.'
Ruth by this time was as pale as she had been red.
'But what do you mean—how do you know, Miss Flossie? How do you know I have anything on my mind, and what were you saying about the old cabinet?'
'I was speaking to myself. You shouldn't listen,' said Flossie crossly. 'I've something on my mind, but you needn't ask about it. You may be sorry for me, just as I'm sorry for you, but you needn't ask questions about what it is.'