There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. She looked stealthily at Anna. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. ” The wonderful likeness between the two girls was never less noticeable than at that moment. Daughters were in the air that day. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions.
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