In spite of little drawbacks, however, the pretence of the two young strangers, who kept Mrs. Castleton in high good-humor, made the two days stage-traveling very delightful; and now they had reached the boat, and were on the broad and beautiful Ontario.
“Do, Ruth, put on your cloak,” said Meredith, to his sister. “The morning air is very keen.”
“I can’t find it, Harry,” she replied.
“How could you mislay it!” he said, quite provoked. “You will catch your death of cold.” And a great stir was made for the missing cloak, everybody getting up and looking under chairs and behind benches; and poor Ruth, quite disconcerted at discomposing so many persons, was saying all the time, “Oh, it’s no matter, Harry.” But he only replied, “It is matter, Ruth. You’ll be ill.” When the general move having reached Mrs. Castleton, she said,
“What are you looking for, Mr. Meredith?”
“Ruth’s cloak,” he answered.
“Oh, I have it on,” she calmly replied. “I could not find mine. It’s somewhere in the lady’s cabin,” she continued, looking up at Ruth, without, however, making any offer of returning Ruth her own.
“Go and get it, Ruth,” said her brother.
She went, and in a few minutes returned without the cloak; and in answer to Mr. Meredith’s remonstrance, said, in a low voice,
“I cannot help it, Harry; the air is so bad down there that I could not stand it; and there’s such a confusion, it’s impossible to find any thing.”