To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is. It has been a big night. ” “I wish you would use my Christian name,” he said. Mild, you know, and boon. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked.
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