"Well, the first is about thee;" and the tears would come in spite of her.
"Why, my dear child, do not grieve over that. Almost a year has gone by, and another will soon pass; and think what a calm, peaceful time I may have with so busy a little housekeeper to do everything."
"Ah! but that is just the trouble, mother," said Ruth, earnestly, as she lifted her tear-stained face. "I feel so good-for-nothing when I have only the same homely little duties every day. I do so long for a chance to be great and good."
"My daughter"—and Mrs. Leonard took both trembling hands in her own—"does thee know that the only way to be good and great is to do faithfully the work that is nearest thy hand? Let thy whole heart be drawn into each homely duty, and when an opportunity comes to do a great work, it will find thee ready."
Ruth said nothing, but the deep, strong look in the gray eyes expressed a firm resolve.
Presently there was a clatter of stout boots heard on the stairs.
"Harry is coming," said the mother with a smile.
In burst the noisy urchin, all aglow with excitement, his hair flying, eyes blazing, and breath so nearly spent that he could hardly speak.
"Don't you smell the smoke?" he gasped. "Something's up! Father—and a crowd of men—have gone off—into the woods—to see what's the matter. There's danger, I tell you. Come on, Scott, let's sit on the big post and watch."
"Thee'd better go down and see about it," said Mrs. Leonard to Ruth, as the two sat staring blankly into each other's faces.