CHAPTER XXII.
Mrs.Morse did not require a mother's intuition to read the advertisement in Ruth's face when she returned home.

The flush that would not leave the cheeks told the simple story, and more eloquently did the eyes, large and bright, reflecting an unmistakable inward glory.
"What has happened ?" Mrs.Morse asked, having bided her time till Ruth had gone to bed.
"You know ?" Ruth queried, with trembling lips.
For reply, her mother's arm went around her, and a hand was softly caressing her hair.
"He did not speak," she blurted out.

"I did not intend that it should happen, and I would never have let him speak--only he didn't speak." "But if he did not speak, then nothing could have happened, could it ?" "But it did, just the same." "In the name of goodness, child, what are you babbling about ?" Mrs.Morse was bewildered.

"I don't think I know what happened, after all.

What did happen ?" Ruth looked at her mother in surprise.
"I thought you knew.