By Humble Means

More often than not, it fell to Hepsey to light the lamp in the attic
window, though she did it at Miss Thorne's direction. "If I forget it,
Hepsey," she had said, calmly, "you'll see to it, won't you?"

Trunks, cedar chests, old newspapers, and long hidden letters were out
of Ruth's province now. Once in two or three weeks, she went to see Miss
Ainslie, but never stayed long, though almost every day she reproached
herself for neglect.

Winfield's days were filled with peace, since he had learned how to get
on with Miss Thorne. When she showed herself stubborn and unyielding, he
retreated gracefully, and with a suggestion of amusement, as a courtier
may step aside gallantly for an angry lady to pass. Ruth felt his mental
attitude and, even though she resented it, she was ashamed.

Having found that she could have her own way, she became less anxious
for it, and several times made small concessions, which were apparently
unconscious, but amusing, nevertheless. She had none of the wiles of the
coquette; she was transparent, and her friendliness was disarming. If
she wanted Winfield to stay at home any particular morning or afternoon,
she told him so. At first he was offended, but afterward learned to like
it, for she could easily have instructed Hepsey to say that she was out.

The pitiless, unsympathetic calendar recorded the fact that July was
near its end, and Ruth sighed--then hated herself for it.

She had grown accustomed to idleness, and, under the circumstances,
liked it far too well.