"You must have a good, strong string--one that can't slip," said Ruth,
in her thoughtful, housewifely way. "Let me think--what kind would be
best?"
"Here!" the judge drew out his wallet, and took off the string that
bound it. "You may use this, David, but take care not to lose it. This
is the strongest, finest strip of doeskin--"
Ruth's sweet laughter chimed in, "It looks like minkskin--it's so
black!" touching it gingerly with the tips of her fingers.
The judge laughed, too. Everything that she said and did pleased him.
But he cautioned the boy again not to lose the string, and to be careful
to bring it back. William Pressley looked on in grave, indifferent
silence. A slight frown gathered on his brow when he saw Ruth trying the
knot, to make sure of its firmness, after the bag was tied. His gaze
darkened somewhat and followed her when she went to the door to see the
boy set out; and he watched her stand looking after him, with her hands
raised to shield her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. It
displeased William to see her show such regard for any one of so little
importance--the personality of the boy did not enter into the matter.
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