Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. But for him she might have been alive and happy.
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