"Why, of course," Ruth answered, a little crisply, starting for the door.
"Your petticoat's showing," her mother called to her. "Here, I'll pin it up for you."
"Oh, let it go!" cried Ruth desperately. "I'll fix it at Edith's," she added hurriedly.
"Ruth, are you crazy?" her mother demanded. "Going through the streets with your petticoat showing! I guess you're in no such hurry as that."
It was while she was pinning up the skirt that Mrs. Holland remarked: "Oh, I very nearly forgot to tell you; Deane's going over there for you tonight."
Then to the mother's utter bewilderment and consternation Ruth covered her face with her hands and burst into sobs.
"Why, my dear," she murmured; "why, Ruth dear, what is the matter?"
Ruth sank down on the bed, leaning her head against the foot of it, shaking with sobs. Her mother stood over her murmuring, "Why, my dear, what is the matter?"
Ruth, trying to stop crying, began to laugh. "I didn't know he was coming! I was so surprised. We've quarrelled!" she gulped out desperately.
"Why, he was just as natural and nice as could be over the 'phone," said Mrs. Holland, pouring some water in the bowl that Ruth might bathe her eyes. "Really, my dear, it seems to me you make too much of things. He wanted to come here, and when I told him you were going to be at Edith's, he said he'd go there. I'm sure he was just as nice as could be."