The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ” She replied. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. It loves to sit on your knee. "I'm prudence personified. .
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