WINNY AND RUTH—Drawn by E. A. Abbey.
Winny was down on her knees at Joe's side.
"Yes, I will," he persisted, in a louder but more melancholy key. "I will go off where there are wild beasts, pottermusses, and lizards—I will."
"Winny," I exclaimed, sharply, "how can you put up with that naughty boy? Joe," I continued, looking at him severely, "let Winny alone, and go to sleep this minute. I want to talk to her."
"Oh, you do, miss, do you?" Joseph returned, with round eyes fixed on me over the sheet. "I'll never be good for you, Miss Greedy, I can tell you that."
But in a few moments Joe's curly head had drooped, and he was fast asleep. Winny turned to me the gentle sisterly look I knew so well.
"Ruth dear," she said, sitting down, "I've been thinking it over, and it seems to me"—Winny's eyebrows drew together, she clasped her hands closely—"you had better go to Cousin Mary's. I don't think I can: leave home just now"—Winny was a little flurried—"so we will get you ready nicely, and you shall go."
I was ready enough then to hug Winny, and tell her she was a darling, but during the days that followed I forgot the sacrifice she had made. She easily made papa see that it was I who should go. "Joe is not well," she pleaded, "and he never does anything for Ruth; he must be taken care of." One such excuse after another was made, greatly to my delight, and the only drawback to my satisfaction was Mrs. Judson's disapproving air. She came over more than usual, and several times remarked upon the injustice of this arrangement. "Why, Winny is quite a young lady," she said once to me, "and really ought to see something." But it was always Winny who silenced her, and prevented papa's discussing the question further.