strange physician had made her trust his strength as she would a rock. She could not have explained why it was so; but as her father remarked once, she might have said, “I trust him implicitly, because, though a man of superiority, he implicitly trusts himself.”
As she re-entered her mother’s room, her father regarded her intently.
“So we are going to make a baby of you, Mamma,” she cried playfully, coming forward and folding her arms around her mother, who lay on the lounge.
“So he says; and what he says one cannot resist.” There was an apathetic ring to her mother’s voice that surprised her. Quickly the thought flashed through her that she was too weary to resist now that she was found out.
“Then we won’t try to,” Ruth decided, seating herself on the edge of the lounge close to her mother. From his armchair, Mr. Levice noted with remorseful pride the almost matronly poise and expression of his lovely young daughter as she bent over her weary-looking mother and smoothed her hair.
“And if you are to be baby,” she continued, smiling down, “I shall have to change places with you, and become mother. You will see what a capital one I shall make. Let’s see, what are the duties? First, baby must be kept clean and sweet,—I am an artist at that; secondly, Father and the rest of us must have a perfectly appointed menage; third—”
“I do not doubt that you will make a perfect mother, my child;” the gentle meaning of her father’s words and glance caused Ruth to flush with pleasure. When Levice said, “My child,” the words were a caress. “Just believe in her, Esther; one of her earliest lessons was ‘Whatever you do, do thoroughly.’ She had to learn it through experience. But as you trust me, trust my pupil.”
The soft smile that played upon her husband’s face was reflected on Mrs. Levice’s.
“Oh, Ruth,” she murmured tremulously, “it will be so hard for you.”
This was a virtual laying down of arms, and Ruth was satisfied.
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