The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-09-26
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name for the drawing rom) and have a fire in the fireplace" She had felt as certain of his coming as if they had put it in writing.
 And now 1t was after and he had not come. A few lights shone from the lower floor of his house, and yet she fancied an unusual stiffness about the place. His car was not in the driveway where he usually left 1t. Could he have been detained at the office? Could he have forgotten to come?
 No, not thati Ruth went into the old drawing room and waited with her hands in her lap. trying not to be tense or impatient or fearful, until she heard the court house clock strike nine strokes. Indoors they sounded less booming. still she could hear them clearly one. two, three and on to the in- evitable nine. She thought, "If ever again catch n clock about to strike nine I'll put cotton in my ears."
 She got up from the stiff old haircloth sofa and covered over the fire carefully. Then she swept the hearth with the hearth broom and blew out the two candles that burned on the mantle. After that she went upstairs. In the upper hall Bertha accosted her, almost as if she had been writing. The old servant said, Are you going to he'd now Miag Elaine2''
 Ruth said. "Yes, Bertha" Grad uaIly she had stopped calling her Penny" She did not know why, except that Penny" sounded to simple and amiable for such . sur ly, furtive creature as the old wom- an had become.
 Bertha said, "We'll be missing Mir. John now. Seems like when him and his mother get to Wash ington they never want to come | home."
 washington" repeated Ruth blankly. "Did you say Washington Bertha?"
 The old woman nodded. That's where his sister, Florence, lives ouS D BOL LWO UT LDEcC CuiiuIC CIi ahu a fine husband. He's a lawyer there"
 "Bertha," said Ruth, holding her voice tight and steady, 'why dc you say John McNeill has gone to Washington
 "I saw him leavin'," Bertha re- piled. Him and his mother catchin' the evening train just be- fore supper. thought 1t was right mean of him to go away before you got your visit out" Ruth took hold of the stair rail turned to go into her room. She undressed mechanically and went to bed. At first she could not think what this meant. It was too sudden and too amazing. And then, after an hour or two of toss ing, she thought she knew; John had found her out and had left in anger and disgust. Not just John alone. John and his mother.
 She protested bitterly into her pillow, q didn't think it would end like this!" But then, what had she expected? Some miracle? Some fairy tale finale to her reck- less little adventure? No, she was getting just what she deserved. Human nature had taken It's course.
 Lying there in the disarranged bed, Ruth knew it would be hours before morning. She could not | face that eternity of sleeplessness and despair. She must have q book to read. She got up and put on slippers and robe and tiDtoed cau- ticSIsly down the stairs, carrying her candle.
 Her efforts to move silently were defeated, for half way down the stairs a board creaked loudly. Then the tall door into the library stuck, and not until Ruth had hurled herself against 1t several times did 1t yield.
 "I thought this was standing open," she. told herself, idly sur prised.
 She entered the room and get her candlestick on the long read | ing table that stood near the book cases. The table was of blackencd | oak, heavily carved and looking as If 1t had seen service in some English castle long before finding it's way into this room. It's top was worn smooth by use. Ruth thought Maybe some knight sat here long ago, reading an illuminated manu- script before he went off to war. | maybe some wealthy squire kept his accounts here or an