"Well, mother, she said she called to see if we wanted anything, and I certainly want that."
"There is some mistake," Mrs. Smith said, speaking kindly, and evidently pitying Ruth's dreadful embarrassment. "You have mistaken the house, I presume; our name is such a common one. You are out on an errand of charity, I presume? We are glad to see you, of course, but we are not in need of anything but friends. I believe you attend the same church with ourselves; we ought to know each other, of course. So we shall profit by the mistake after all. My daughter is a wild little girl, and lets her sense of fun get the better of her politeness sometimes; I hope you will excuse her."
What was to be said? Why could not Ruth get rid of her horrible embarrassment and rally to meet this kind and frank greeting? In vain she tried to command her tongue; to think of something to say that would be proper under these strange circumstances. How had she misunderstood Dr. Dennis! Why should these people be called on? Why should they feel that they were being neglected when they were in need of nothing?
It was all a mystery to her; and the world is full of people who do not understand a sense of loneliness, whose lives are so full of friendships, and engagements, and society, that they imagine all other people are like themselves except that class known as the poor, who need old clothes, and cold pieces, and tracts!
That was all that Ruth Erskine knew. She could not recover from her astonishment and confusion; she made her stay very short, indeed, apologizing in what she was conscious was an awkward way for her intrusion, and then went directly toward home, resolving in great firmness that she had made her last calls on people selected from that horrible list.
She was more than embarrassed; she was utterly dismayed and disheartened. Was there, then, nothing for her to do? It had been a real honest desire to be up and doing which had sent her to Dr. Dennis; it had been a real cross, and one keenly felt to take up this work about which she had started. What an utter failure! What could he have meant? How was she expected to help those people? They needed nothing; they were Christian people; they were pleasantly circumstanced in every way. She had not the least idea how to be of any help to them. There was nothing for her to do. She felt humbled and sad.
Yet that young lady was joined in a few minutes by Nellis Mitchell, who cordially volunteered to shield her dainty summer toilet from certain drops of rain that began to fall, and so walked six entire blocks by her side, pleasant and genial as usual, and not a word said she to him about the great topic to which her life was consecrated. He even helped her by himself referring to the evening meeting, and saying that he should have to escort Eurie as far as the door if this rain continued, and she did not so much as think to ask him to come farther and enjoy the meeting with them. She did not like Nellis Mitchell, you will remember.
Also that same evening she spent an hour after prayer-meeting in conversation with her friend, Mr. Wayne, and she said not a single word to him about this matter. She could not talk with him, she told herself; he did not understand her, and it did no good. Some time, when he was in a less complaisant mood, she could do something for him, but not now. She was not very companionable, however; her mind was dwelling on her afternoon disappointment.
"It was the most horrid time I ever had in my life!" she told Marion, after going over an account of the experience. "I shall not be caught in that way again."
And Marion, unsympathetic girl that she was, laughed much and long.