But the old
man had taken up one of Ruth's books and was absorbed in its contents;
he was muttering words over under his breath.
"Coming, wife--coming presently," he said.
Ruth's head was bent over her books. Mr. Craven rose and went on tiptoe
into the kitchen.
"We mustn't disturb her, Susan," he said. "We must let her have her own
way. She must work just as long as she likes. She is going to be a great
power in the land, is that child, with her beauty and her talent;
there's nothing she can't aspire to."
"Now don't you be a silly old man," said Mrs. Craven. "And what on earth
were you whispering about to yourself when I came in?"
"I am going to work with her. It will be a wonderful stimulation, and a
great interest to me. I always was keen for book-learning."
Mrs. Craven suppressed a sigh.
"If I even had fifty pounds," she said, "I wouldn't let that child spend
every hour at school. I'd dress up smart, and take her out, and get her
the very best husband I could. Why, old man, what does a woman want
with all that learning?"
"If a woman has brains she's bound to use them," replied the old man, as
he sat down by the kitchen fire.
Meanwhile Ruth went on with her lessons. After a time, however, she
uttered a sigh. She flung down her books and looked across the room.
"If he only knew," she said under her breath--"if he only knew that I
was practically sent to Coventry--that none of the nice girls will speak
to me.
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