Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity. "Time to dress for dinner," said Ruth from behind the curtain. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. I was certain of it. “I have never seen him in my life,” she said to the official.
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