Glenloch Girls | Page 8

are very glad to know you are coming and are already wondering how you look and whether you will like them. The one in the middle of the picture is Charlotte Eastman, and the plump little girl on her right is Betty Ellsworth. The other is Dorothy Marshall. I shall not tell you anything more about them, because you will soon see them and learn to know them for yourself."
Just here Mrs. Hamilton paused in her letter. "She must know that I have a son, and I'm afraid she'll think it strange if I don't mention him," she said to herself. "I can't tell her that he is dreading her coming, and I certainly can't say with truth that he is expecting her with pleasure. Well, a very little will do and I can explain later."
"My son, Arthur," the letter went on, "is slowly recovering from the effects of a severe accident. He has not yet left his room, but I hope by the time you arrive he will have greatly improved.
"And now, my dear, I'll close my note and hurry it off so that it may soon assure you of our hearty welcome. With kindest regards to your father, and love to yourself, I am,
"Yours very sincerely,
"MARY A. HAMILTON."
Mrs. Hamilton's eyes were very tender as she folded and sealed her letter. "Poor little girl," she said half aloud, "I suspect she thinks her heart is broken, but we must try to mend it for her."

CHAPTER III
THE NEWCOMER
At three o'clock on the afternoon of the twelfth of October the Hamilton house was very still. Mrs. Hamilton had gone into town, the housemaid was taking her "afternoon out," and the cook, who had been kept awake by toothache the night before, was enjoying a nap.
Just about this time Arthur peered cautiously from his room. No one being in sight he came out slowly and carefully on his crutches. "I can do miles of exercise in this hall," he said to himself with grim satisfaction, "as long as there is no one to watch me."
He went up and down once, and then with great effort for a second time. Just as he was about ready to start again, the door-bell rang. He went carefully toward the door of his own room, always afraid of toppling over, and paused when he got there to listen. The bell rang again, this time more insistently, and he wondered impatiently where Katie and Ellen were, and why some one didn't go to the door. A third peal of the bell sent him back to the hall window. From there he could see the depot carriage with a trunk on the back, and the driver looking expectantly at the house. He could hear voices on the steps below, but could see no one until, after a fourth ring, a gentleman and a young girl went slowly down the steps and stood looking back at the house.
"It's that girl, and she's come a day too soon," gasped Arthur. He threw up the hall window and spoke to them.
"If you will wait a moment longer," he said, "I will try to find some one to open the door for you."
The gentleman bowed and thanked him, the girl smiled, and Arthur left the window, inwardly vowing vengeance on faithless maids who didn't attend to their duties. He groaned as he suddenly remembered that it was Katie's afternoon out. He might as well go downstairs himself as take the long journey through the house to find Ellen.
"If I try to go down on these old sticks, they'll have to break open the door and pick me up," he said to himself with a rueful smile." I'll try it baby fashion." Sitting down, he let his crutches slide along beside him, and holding the injured leg straight out before him hitched along from stair to stair until he reached the bottom. Then with even greater caution than he had used before he walked to the door and opened it.
A bright-faced girl stood on the step and without waiting for Arthur to speak said pleasantly, "I am Ruth Shirley, and I am afraid you are not expecting me until to-morrow."
"I am sure mother didn't expect you to-day, for she has gone in town and won't be back before five o'clock," said Arthur, unpleasantly conscious of his crutches, his dressing-gown and his distracted-looking hair.
Ruth turned to the gentleman who was with her and held out her hand. "Thank you very much, Mr. Ingersoll, for taking care of me so nicely. I shall write father all about your kindness."
"It was a very great pleasure, Miss Ruth," answered Mr. Ingersoll, "and I shall hope some day to be able to tell your father what a delightful traveling companion I found you. I am only sorry that