have seen plenty of mountains at home. We used to go to the mountains every summer. We are familiar enough with the mountains. Aren't we, mother?" the young lady demanded, appealing to Mrs. Ruck, who, with her husband, had drawn near again.
"Aren't we what?" inquired the elder lady.
"Aren't we familiar with the mountains?"
"Well, I hope so," said Mrs. Ruck.
Mr. Ruck, with his hands in his pockets, gave me a sociable wink.—
"There's nothing much you can tell them!" he said.
The two ladies stood face to face a few moments, surveying each other's garments. "Don't you want to go out?" the young girl at last inquired of her mother.
"Well, I think we had better; we have got to go up to that place."
"To what place?" asked Mr. Ruck.
"To that jeweller's—to that big one."
"They all seemed big enough; they were too big!" And Mr. Ruck gave me another wink.
"That one where we saw the blue cross," said his daughter.
"Oh, come, what do you want of that blue cross?" poor Mr. Ruck demanded.
"She wants to hang it on a black velvet ribbon and tie it round her neck," said his wife.
"A black velvet ribbon? No, I thank you!" cried the young lady. "Do you suppose I would wear that cross on a black velvet ribbon? On a nice little gold chain, if you please—a little narrow gold chain, like an old-fashioned watch-chain. That's the proper thing for that blue cross. I know the sort of chain I mean; I'm going to look for one. When I want a thing," said Miss Ruck, with decision, "I can generally find it."
"Look here, Sophy," her father urged, "you don't want that blue cross."
"I do want it—I happen to want it." And Sophy glanced at me with a little laugh.
Her laugh, which in itself was pretty, suggested that there were various relations in which one might stand to Miss Ruck; but I think I was conscious of a certain satisfaction in not occupying the paternal one. "Don't worry the poor child," said her mother.
"Come on, mother," said Miss Ruck.
"We are going to look about a little," explained the elder lady to me, by way of taking leave.
"I know what that means," remarked Mr. Ruck, as his companions moved away. He stood looking at them a moment, while he raised his hand to his head, behind, and stood rubbing it a little, with a movement that displaced his hat. (I may remark in parenthesis that I never saw a hat more easily displaced than Mr. Ruck's.) I supposed he was going to say something querulous, but I was mistaken. Mr. Ruck was unhappy, but he was very good-natured. "Well, they want to pick up something," he said. "That's the principal interest, for ladies."
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