RUTH. 103:

religiously saved every scrap for quilts, as her mother did
before her. A rush of tears came again to Ruth’s eyes, and
she turned to go away from the fascinating display before her.
Hardly seeing where she stepped, she ran into a gentleman
just passing.

He caught her low “I beg your pardon,” and looked
down into the tearful eyes with a smile. “I hope I didn’t hurt
you,” he said.

“Oh, it was my fault!’ exclaimed Ruth, “T didn’t see
you.”

“No wonder,” he thought. “You were looking at the
lovely dollies, were you not? So, of course, you didn’t see
me.”

Ruth smiled at his pleasant tone, but the pathetic look was
still in her eyes and won the interest of the gentleman, who
wondered why a well-dressed, pretty little girl should seem so
troubled. He looked so kindly and steadfastly that Ruth
choked down a little sob and turned to go away.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “ Don’t think I am rude, but I
should really like to know who you are and where you live.
You remind me of some one I have known.”

“My name is Ruth Armistead,” said the little girl, “and I
live with my great-aunts, the Misses Wylie. I have been with
them since my parents died.”

“My cousin Ruth! Yes, that is it,” he said. “My dear
child, do you know I am your cousin?” And he took the little